The Rising Darkness
by Jango27
Summary: "It had been months since he'd had a night's sleep without jerking awake with images of the faces of betrayed friends seared into his memory and their screams dying in his ears." Ward is given the opportunity to make things right with the team, but can he save Skye from someone who's determined to find her after over twenty years?. Definitely AU.- DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

He was lying on his back on the rough canvas mattress. Just lying. The guards that check up on him hourly swear that he sleeps most of the day away, but that wasn't true. In fact it had been months since he'd had a night's sleep without jerking awake with images of the faces of betrayed friends seared into his memory and their screams dying in his ears (_wait, Ward, look at me! I know that you care about us Ward!)_. In the end, it had become a lot easier to just lie on this suspiciously smelling bed, trying not to think about what had got him here. Trying not to think about _her._

Food and water were given to him regularly, and when he didn't eat it, drip fed from an IV while his wrists were handcuffed to the bed to stop him ripping it out. But as it had occurred to him while he was sitting in his cell; it takes more than that to keep someone alive once they've lost the will to live. That's where Doctor Sutherland came in. That short, wisp of a woman with the oversized glasses and straight brown bob that only encouraged his stereotypes for shrinks, had become as integral to his recovery as the drugs she prescribed. But even that combined effort couldn't take away his feelings of rising darkness.

Which was why he was so surprised when _she_ came to visit.

Ward didn't know how long it was before he became aware that there was someone in his cell. Minutes, hours maybe. The only way he had to tell time was the meals which were bought three times a day. He remained quiet, giving no indication of their presence. He only knew one person who could move so silently, and she certainly wouldn't be the one to talk first. Leave it to the Cavalry to keep her pride in a place like this.

"Come to watch me wither away, May?" He said after a few more moments of silence.

She didn't react to the croak in his voice, the resulting combination of his recently healed throat and lack of use. She crossed her arms and continued glare impassively down at him.

"Or maybe you're here to finish the job," he continued. He sat up, swinging his legs to the floor and bared his hands to show he was unarmed. "Go ahead. We both know you're not above killing in cold blood."

"No, I'm not," She said silently, "but I don't believe in killing things that are already broken."

"Then why are you here?" he asked, confused at her intentions.

"Your therapist has requested a change in scene. Thought that you might recover faster in a familiar environment."

"And they requested the team," he finished simply. "I'm surprised you care, Agent May. Somehow I doubt I'll receive a warm welcoming back at the Bus. "

She smiled thinly. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I care, Ward. My concern for you vanished the instant you decided to spare Garret. But I'm under orders from the Director, and he thinks you deserve this chance. I respect him enough to trust his opinion."

Ward couldn't contain his shock. "The Director? Fury's dead, May. If there's one thing I know on this godforsaken earth, it's that."

She chuckled darkly. "Then you know nothing, Ward. It's been three months, things have changed."

Ward stood up, slowly walking over to her. His eyes, once so expressionless, were dancing with a barely contained intensity. "And you, Agent May? Have you changed?"

To the everlasting credit of Melinda May, she didn't flinch or crumble under his piercing gaze. Instead she stared up at him defiantly and spoke with a voice filled with malice. "We all changed. No one goes through what you did to us and isn't different at the end of it. But I have people to fight for now, people I care about. So let's get one thing straight, Ward. Coulson may be giving you a second chance, but I'm not. You almost killed Fitzsimmons. You all but broke Skye. If you do anything which in anyway hurts them, I am going to _kill_ you. Do we have an understanding?"

There was a time when Ward would've answered back, saying something along the lines of 'you could try' or returning with some quip of his own. But now he was a broken man who had nothing left to live for, although his heart had beat faster at the mention of a certain name. And May was offering him hope. She was offering him _Skye_.

He nodded once. "We have an understanding."

Ward heard a metallic click. Looking down, he saw a thick band of metal circling his wrist: a tracking bracelet, similar to the one that Skye had worn after the incident with Miles. The irony of the situation didn't escape him.

He looked back up, but May had already moved away, almost at the door. "Why'd you think I'd say yes?" he blurted out.

May paused, but didn't turn around. When she spoke her voice was silent, almost impossible to hear, but yet her words resonated through the cold room. "They're coming for Skye. You know who I'm talking about. I despise you, Ward. Your very presence on that plane is going to undo everything that we've tried to rebuild. I don't trust you with that girl, but I trust that you'll want to help keep her alive."

With that final word, she exited the room, leaving the door open behind her.

Ward continued to stare at the open doorway long after she'd gone. The tracker hung heavy around his wrist, but his mind was heavier. It wasn't freedom, not by a long shot, but it was a chance for him to be able to protect the people he cared about, even if they hated him. And even if what he was protecting them from was himself. He wouldn't be seeking forgiveness. Hell, he didn't think that there could be forgiveness for the things he had done. But maybe he could make them see- not why he had done the things he did, there were no excuses for that- but what had influence him from the start, his past that made him the person he was now.

There wasn't really a choice, May had known that the minute she walked through the door, so without a backward glance at the place that had been his prison for three months, Ward followed her out the door and into the outside light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, thanks for being so patient for an update and for taking the time to read and review :) Just finished exam week, so hopefully I'll be able to update a lot faster now. I kinda have an idea where this story is going, but if you have any ideas or requests, please let me know! It might be a bit slow for now, but the next chapters should be a little more intense as we get further into the story. **

**Anyway, you guys know how it works. I don't own Agents of Shield or any of its characters. **

* * *

Chapter two)

Ward wasn't surprised to find that May hadn't waited for him so they could return to the Bus together. He doubted she had the restraint to last an entire car ride without throttling him. Instead, he caught a ride in the back of a van with three burly men eyeing him with a serious gaze, all armed to the teeth. It was probably meant to make him nervous or intimidated, but Ward hardly noticed. His mind was abuzz with the sudden change in events. He had been resigned to spending the remainder of his life in that cell, living his days in isolation until Doctor Sutherland had pronounced him cured and he was moved to another, possibly less secure, prison. But now he was on the way back to the people he had given up any hope at seeing again, and he couldn't help but feel _relieved_. He had spent days on end imagining what his reunion with the team would be like if he ever got the opportunity to talk to them again; he had torn his hair out trying to think what their reactions would be. And now, finally, he would see.

So, In the back of a van, with three agents imagining different ways in which to kill him and a tracking bracelet recording his every move, Grant Ward found himself feeling lighter than he had in years.

* * *

Coulson watched Skye attack the punching bag with a single-minded determination. He was leaning on the railing of the metal catwalk which overlooked the makeshift training area; just watching, not commenting on the fact that she's been hitting the bag for over an hour and each time her punches are getting wilder and wilder as her strength diminishes. He knows that this is the best outlet for her emotions, the best way to stay ahead of the memories that had been haunting them all for the past few months.

As much as it hated Coulson to admit it, Skye had changed. She was no longer the bubbly young girl that had hacked her way into SHIELD. She was tougher, ruthless and, if her attack against the punching bag was any indication, becoming quite a lethal agent. _A lot like May, actually, _Coulson thought with a faint sense of sadness. Skye had also become fiercely protective of Fitzsimmons, to the point where she would glare at even Coulson if she thought he would upset the two scientists.

Ward's betrayal had been devastating for them all. May had become even more closed off and distant, not letting her guard down with anyone except the team, with possibly the exception of Trip, who had silently replaced Ward's position of the operative on the Bus. Simmons still had that haunted look in her eyes, and jumped whenever a door slammed shut. And Fitz… Fitz had become distant- not cold exactly, but quieter and less confident than he had been before the accident.

To the extent of Coulson's knowledge, Ward's name hadn't been uttered by any one of them, and yet they he knew they were still being haunted by it. How could you not when such an integral member of the team turns out to be so completely different?

Not for the first time, Coulson found himself questioning himself about letting a _certain person _back on the bus.

"So, how long are you planning on creepy-stalker-staring at me for?"

Coulson is dragged out of his thoughts by Skye's voice and once more focuses his attention on her. She hasn't stopped hitting the bag, and her back is still to him. It's a wonder then, really, how she knew he was there. He gives a small smile. _'Definitely like May_'

"Undetermined," he says, slowly making his way down the spiral staircase and over to Skye. "How long were you planning on beating up that bag for?"

"Undetermined," she replies with a wry smile. "I would've thought the Director of this fine agency would have better things to do than oversee some rookie's training." She puts on a posh accent when she addresses him.

"You're not just some agent Skye," he says seriously, "you're part of my team. And we look after our own." He puts his hands in his pockets. "Besides, it's not like you're a rookie anymore. You've seen enough action to put some level 5 agents to shame."

"Huh," she scoffs, "well-it-came-at-a-damn-high-price." She punches the bag with every word before giving it a final resounding kick that makes it swing precariously on its chain. She turns to face him, brushing some of her hair off her face. "And I don't think getting shot is something to be proud of."

He looks at her, taking in the dark circles like bruises under her eyes and the slight trembling in her limbs. Since when had she stopped sleeping well? "I didn't mean getting shot," he says quietly.

Skye didn't answer, just continued staring at him for a few more seconds before crossing the room and ripping off the strapping on her hands. "Where did May go? I saw her leave a couple of hours ago."

"She should be back soon," Coulson answered evenly. He couldn't lie to Skye, especially about something to do with Ward. She would know about May soon enough.

Fortunately, Skye accepted his answer without suspicion, which really just made him feel worse, and grabbed a drink bottle before moving towards the stairs, thoroughly intent to spend the next hour in a nice hot shower. "Skye," he called out. She looked over her shoulder. "You should get some sleep; take it easy for a bit. Don't make me use my Director status and order you." She nodded, giving a small smile, and disappeared upstairs.

Coulson stood silently after she had gone, clenching and unclenching his fingers while he tried to convince himself that bringing Ward back would help. His mind wondered back the image that had been haunting him for the past week, the thing which had resulted in him making such a drastic decision; a security image of Skye's bunk, with her sleeping peacefully curled in the blankets.

A single sentence accompanied the photo, one which on sight had sent ice down Coulson's spine.

It simply read _'are you watching closely?'_

The message had been emailed to his private account and, even with Coulson using SHIELD's extensive list of computer experts and technology, was completely untraceable. Whoever had sent it had unchartered access into SHIELD feeds, not to mention the ability to hack into the Bus's security. Following an unbearable week of investigation which had turned up no leads, he and May had become desperate, turning to the one person who might have any idea who was threatening the hacker.

Apart from May, no one on the Bus had any clue that this was happening. To them, they saw the break in missions and constant changing flight destinations as a well-deserved holiday rather than a tactical effort to protect Skye. He hated lying to them, but the team had barely recovered from Hydra's infiltration, and now it seemed there was an even bigger threat out there. He'd wanted to protect them for as long as possible. Unfortunately, that was no longer possible.

He looked up at the sound of a car approaching, and watched as May pulled up in a black van and hopped out, slamming the door behind her. She said nothing as she approached Coulson, merely giving him a stiff nod and pressing the small box which had held a tracking bracelet into his hands before disappearing up the steps Skye had exited up.

He only had to wait a few more minutes before a second, practically identical van arrived, and a slightly disheveled Ward climbed out and approached the plane's open door slowly. Coulson took in his appearance, everything from the way his clothes seemed to hang off his frame, to the look in his eyes that could only be described as nervousness, something Coulson had never expected to see in the other man. He knew he cut an intimidating figure, with his dark suit and expressionless face, he'd chosen to wear his reflective glasses this morning for exactly this reason, and he felt a grim sense of achievement at the sight of the apprehensiveness on Ward's face.

Ward wasted no time, talking the moment Coulson was within hearing range. "May said they were coming for Skye?"

Coulson kept his face expressionless, something he had perfected over the years. "Someone hacked into the Bus's feed. Sent us a message along with a picture of Skye sleeping."

Ward felt faintly sick. "You haven't traced it?"

"Impossible. Whoever sent it has the most advanced technology we've seen. We need you to tell us who it might be."

Ward gave a slight nod, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Coulson-"

"How many times did May threaten to kill you?"

Ward laughed once, a harsh and unnatural sound. "Only once. Quite disappointing really."

"Then I don't need to tell you what the consequences will be if anyone on my team gets hurt again."

The smirk died on Ward's face. _My team. Not our team, not your team. You don't belong here anymore. _He cleared his throat. "No sir." He motioned towards the bracelet around his wrist. "I didn't see this coming, though. Don't think I'm quite as likely to hack something as Skye was."

"I told May to give you that. But don't worry, it's an updated version of the one Skye had. You might find trying to get into a few areas a bit difficult."

Ward looked at him blankly. "May said the Director gave her orders?"

Coulson gave a cold smile. "Exactly," he said, turning and making his way deeper into the Bus.

Ward took a deep breath, trying to slow the racing beat of his heart and swirling thoughts in his head, mentally preparing himself for the reactions of the remaining members of his old team.

* * *

**So, please tell me what you guys think! Any thoughts of yours are truly appreciated. This chapter didn't turn out exactly how I'd hoped, but well, its my first fanfic so I'm hoping my writing might improve with time. Next chapter we'll see Ward meeting the rest of the team, as well as getting deeper into the story. Exciting stuff...**

**Anyways, thanks heaps guys, **

**-F**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys :) So here's the next chapter. Sorry it took a while, but its a bit longer than the others so hopefully it'll make up for it. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and/or review, it helps a lot! Anyways, again, this chapter didn't turn out exactly how I'd planned 'cos it was taking too long and I just kinda wanted to get it out there. So some of the things I'd had planned will come around next chapter, so please stay tuned!**

Chapter three)

Overall, Skye didn't end up spending as long as she'd hoped for in the shower. Although she could've easily spent the whole afternoon under the scalding water, she had things to do. Seeing Coulson earlier had only confirmed her suspicions that he was keeping something from her, something big.

Nevertheless, she took her time washing her hair, getting changed, grabbing a small bite of breakfast before making her way downstairs to the lab. She didn't see Coulson on her way, supposedly he was back in his office, researching into whatever had been troubling him for the past week, or doing some other important Director stuff. She grabbed her laptop on the way; if Coulson was distracted it would be a good opportunity for her to look into what he was working on lately. Maybe if she could get into the Bus's communication logs she could at least see who and what he was talking about.

She walked into the lab, and was immediately met with Simmons's startled yell of "Skye, don't move!" Skye froze, just as a huge bang sounded and a small projectile hurtled past her and embedded itself deep into the chest of a manikin a few feet away from where she was standing. She jumped back, swearing loudly, and turned to glare at the two scientists as they emerged from behind a clear, plastic screen.

"If you guys don't want me in here you could-you know- just tell me. No need to kill me," she accused angrily.

"Sorry, Skye," Simmons said as her and Fitz rushed past to check on the manikin. "But this wouldn't have killed you. Quite fascinating really, it uses small pin of ionized metal to release an electromotive force emanating from the contact site which renders the victim into a temporary state of-"

"Sounds great, Gem, but next time could ya give me a warning before I'm impaled on sight? Maybe put up a sign on the door or something?"

Simmons gives her a small smile before turning to Fitz, who's extracted a pretty lethal looking needle from the dummy and is examining its tip with safety gloves. "What do you think Fitz? Did ionizing the metal affect the flight path at all?"

Fitz grunts, not taking his eyes off his work. "Doesn't appear so, but we should try increasing the centripetal force in the barrel to make it rotate through the air more." He moves behind the screen without a backward glance and starts furiously typing away at the monitor.

Simmons sighs. "Fitz, it hit the target dead on. It doesn't need any more-"

"And I still don't think we should be designing an electromotive gun. The night-night bullets do exactly the same thing and I don't see the point in designing another disarming weapon. SHIELD needs weapons to _kill_, not to make the enemy drop their bloody gun."

Skye found herself wishing she had walked in a few minutes later, just so she didn't have to see the look of shock on Simmons's face. She came to Gemma's help.

"Fitz," Skye started, "you shouldn't-"

He rounded on her. "What? You're honestly saying that you wouldn't shoot to kill if Ward came around that corner right now?" She wasn't used to the look of anger on Fitz's face. "Oh that's right, you had the chance, _and you didn't take it._"

Skye inhaled sharply, a mixture of pain and anger rendering her speechless. The events three months ago had become a sort of taboo on the Bus. If you didn't talk about it, you could pretend it didn't happen, as best as you could. It had taken time, but they had all gotten used to the absence of the man that had been such an integral part of their team. There were still times though when Skye's mind was left reeling, when she woke up screaming and shaking after nightmares of Ward killing Coulson and May, or Fitzsimmons and Trip. Those were the times when she threw herself into her work, either spending hours on her laptop or kicking the hell out of a punching bag, desperately trying to lose herself in the monotonous comfort of routine.

Surprisingly, it was usually May who broke her out of these moods, gently but firmly pushing her away from the computer screen or training area, bandaging her hands when they bled from the continuous exercise or simply encouraging her to eat or sleep more.

And now, again, Skye found it was May who came to her rescue.

"Well, this argument couldn't have come at a better time," her voice rang out through the lab. Fitz, startled, took an unsteady step backward, blinking quickly as if waking up, and looked towards the door, where the senior agent was standing watching the scene play out in front of her. "Coulson wants us in the lounge," she added. "You might want to leave the gun behind."

* * *

"_Ward's here?!"_

Fitz's harsh voice rang through the room. Seated on one of the coaches, Skye shifted even closer to Gemma, who had noticeably flinched at the anger in Fitz's voice, and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. She looked up, taking in May's stoic face. Her and Coulson were doing a good job at hiding their expressions, she supposed they'd had enough time to thoroughly prepare for any reactions that the team could have. Fitz was simply living up to their expectations.

To find out that the man that had betrayed them all was back in their lives again, currently sitting in their interrogation cell, had hit them all hard. The only outward sign Trip had shown were his fingers slowly curling into fists. Simmons had shrunk, her eyes glazing over slightly as she lost herself in memories. Skye was left to comfort her, pushing aside her own shock as she desperately focused on her friend.

Fitz paced around the room, hands clenching his hair. "You've bought him back to the very place where he dropped me and Simmons into the ocean? Of course you did, he was always one of your favorites, another one of those people you thought you could 'fix.' _This_ obviously wasn't a very thorough job, was it?" He gestured to the small scar on his temple, the only physical reminder of what had transpired three months ago.

Coulson still looked relatively impassive. "Every situation has been considered. The safety of the team is my ultimate priority, but Ward's doctors have thought that his recovery has been adequate for him to be integrated back into a familiar environment."

"Why not put him in a watertight container and drop him to the bottom of the ocean, see if that's familiar enough for him."

Coulson's jaw clenched, the only sign that Fitz's words were affecting him. "Every precaution has been taken. Ward seems to have shown genuine repentance for what he has done, and I'm not in the business of denying him a chance of redemption." His eyes find Skye's. "It wouldn't be the first time we gave someone a second chance."

Fitz rounds on him. "This isn't some teenage boyfriend drama. This is _Ward._ You're bringing a killer back into our lives, or are you too bloody caught up in your new found Director status to realise that?"

"Enough!" Coulson shouted. He took a breath. "I understand your concern, Fitz. Out of everyone you have the most right to feel concerned. But I am still your boss and it's up to me to make these decisions. Ward's changed. I understand if you don't see that but I'm asking you to respect it." He turned towards where Simmons and Skye were sitting shell-shocked on the couch. "If you want to see Ward, he's in the interrogation room until we can find a more suitable location. May will oversee any and all interactions." And with a final nod, he turned and walked towards his office.

There was a ringing silence after he left, in which everyone tried to comprehend this new change. The only sound was Fitz's deep breaths, and even that disappeared when Fitz moved, quickly making his way out of the room. Simmons made to follow him, until Skye put a gentle hand on her shoulder and said "let him go, Gem. He needs time to get a grip on things. We all do."

* * *

Ward sat at the plain metal table. He didn't fidget or complain. During his time in his cell silence had been his only constant companion, so in a way being alone again gave him a sense of relief and comfort in this otherwise unconventional day.

He was expecting someone, but still it surprised him that it was Fitz that came to see him first.

Fitz burst into the room, slamming the door open. His breaths were fast and panicked, his hair sticking up unruly. Seeing the young scientist again made guilt twist at Ward's heart but at the same time sent a surge of relief through his had been told numerous times that despite his injures, he was fine. But it was something Ward needed to see with his own eyes. _He was alright. He wasn't dead._ Out of the corner of his eye he saw May slip in silently behind Fitz.

"Fitz-" Ward started.

And Fitz- Fitz, who swooned at the sight of blood, who had once had a lengthy argument with Ward about the merits of violence when intellect could be used so much more efficiently- Fitz strode crossed the room and punched him across the face. Red crackled across his vision as his nose flared up in pain. When he could see again, Fitz was still standing in front of him, wearing a look of shock that Ward was sure was mirrored on his own face. It would've almost been a funny situation if it wasn't for the anger and pain in the scientists eyes.

"Fitz," Ward struggled out again.

"If you ever hurt Gemma again, I'll kill you, I swear to God. You coward." Then he turned his back and went out the door, pushing past May on the way.

Blood streamed down into Ward's mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. "You didn't stop him," he says quietly to May.

She lifts one eyebrow. "Neither did you," she replies simply.

* * *

The blood has dried on his face by the time Simmons comes in, but the pain's still there, a constant thumping pressure against his head. As such it was only May clearing her throat repeatedly that alerted him to Simmons's presence in the room.

"Fitz said he hit you," she says quietly, standing awkwardly by the door. "I bought you some painkillers." She places them as well as a bottle of water on the table, reluctant to get any closer that necessary to him. He reaches out for them slowly, cautious as to not startling her. Fear is practically radiating off the girl and he can feel May staring daggers at him from the corner.

He swallows the pills and takes several large gulps of the water to wash them down, realizing only then that it's the first drink he's had all day. He nods gratefully at Simmons and sets down the bottle with a small sigh. "If it's worth anything," he says hesitantly, "Hearing that you and Fitz were alive was the best thing I've heard in my life."

Simmons sucks in a breath, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She had expected an apology, maybe, something which tried to excuse or explain his actions. But the Ward in front of her seemed so different from the one prepared to kill her a few months ago that her mind was left reeling. "No," she says desperately. "You're lying. You're a liar. You're just going to betray us like you did before!" He opens his mouth to answer, but she shouts "No, NO! Don't say anything. I don't want to hear anything more!" She runs from the room before he can get another word in.

Ward slumps in his chair, feeling utterly drained. It would be a long time before he could begin to talk normally with his old team.

* * *

Skye was sitting on her bed when Coulson knocked on her door, staring intently at her laptop screen. "You haven't been to see Ward yet," he says gently.

She didn't look up at him. "Well, doing that would defeat the purpose of avoiding him so…"

"You can't avoid someone forever. Eventually you're going to have to talk to him."

She rolled her eyes. "It's a big plane, AC, a girl can try. And," she looks up at him and its only then that he sees the cold anger in her eyes. "While we're on the topic of not talking, when were you going to tell me about this?" She swivels her laptop around so he can see what she had been working on. Somehow, despite all of his attempts to keep it from her, Skye had managed to find the image threatening her and was glaring up at him with such betrayal that it made his heart clench. "What the _hell _is this, Coulson, and why didn't I know about it before? And don't you dare say some crap like 'you didn't know how to tell me.'"

Coulson stepped into the room, closing the door carefully behind him, and makes his way over to where she's sitting. He gently shuts her laptop screen. He's seen enough of that damn photo. He takes her hand, and is gratified when she doesn't pull away. "Listen to me, Skye. I'm sorry. I truly am. I should've told you about it, but we didn't know what _it_ was. I wanted to know something more before I presented you with another unsolvable mystery."

"But you don't know anything."

"No, it's impossible. The entirety of SHIELD's operatives couldn't find where it came from.

"But its sick, AC! They have a picture of me _sleeping_! What else could they get into?" A look of horror passed over her face. "Do we have security cameras in the shower?"

"I know, believe me, I know." He gripped her hands tightly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner. But I wanted to protect you and I don't know what I'm protecting you from. I'm sorry."

Skye nodded once, thoughtfully. Biting her lip, she said hesitantly. "I might know someone who could help, this is his sort of his style," she gave sort of grimace, "but you aren't gonna like it."

"Skye," he replied seriously, "if whoever this is can make sense of this, if they might know anything, I wouldn't care if it was Miles. So how can we contact him?"

Skye didn't answer.

"Its Miles, isn't it?"

She nodded again, a hint of a smile playing over her lips. He sighed. _Of course it is_. "I'll tell May to change course to Hong Kong. He couldn't have gotten far when we left him stranded in a foreign country with no money."

Coulson stands up and turns to leave. He's at the doorway when he stops and turns back. "Skye," he calls, "I'm not saying you should forgive Ward, but… hear him out. He hasn't had it easy. Please just… think about it."

And just before he leaves, so softly he almost didn't hear it, she said sadly "I always do."

**Couldn't resist adding in some Skyward there at the end (don't worry guys, they'll be plenty of interaction there next chapter, mwah ha ha) So, please tell me what you guys thought of this chapter. Please!**

**I don't speak science, so all the terms that Fitzsimmons speak are random words I know from physics, so I'm truly sorry if they don't make any sense :p**

**Anyho, thanks again for taking the time to read!**

**-F**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hehe, really sorry bout the insanely long time it took me up update. Things are getting hectic with school over here and I hardly had any time to write or anything. Thanks to anyone and everyone that took the time to read and review or provide any feedback, I appreciate everything you guys say! **

Chapter four)

Fitz was tapping furiously at the holograph screen when Jemma walked into the command room. He didn't say anything as she approached, merely looked up and appraised her with wary eyes before focusing on his work again. It wasn't exactly a welcome, but she would take it anyway. She walked cautiously over towards the table and watched as he flicked through designs and blueprints at a dizzying speed.

Being together with him, looking through plans that they had wanted to make, she could almost imagine that they were back at the academy; the place where the only thing they had to worry about was staying ahead of the other students, when they felt like they had the whole world at their fingertips and the only limit was their own imagination. She envied the people they had been then, but at the same time saw them as ignorant and naïve. Who were they to believe themselves any different from the rest of the world? Sure, they might have higher IQ's, but they could still be hurt, they could still be betrayed. And, as they had recently learnt, they could almost certainly be killed.

"You know what the worst thing was, Jem?" Fitz said, pulling her out of her thoughts. "When we were locked in that pod, watching Ward about to pull that lever that dropped us to the bottom of the ocean; do you know what I couldn't get out of my head?"

Simmons shook her head slowly. There was a fierce ferocity in Fitz's eyes that made her wary, almost scared. This was the person he had been right after their accident, when anger drove his every move and the only person he allowed near him was her and Skye, because in his mind only they couldn't have foreseen this betrayal.

"The worst thing," he continued shakily, "was how helpless I was. We could've died in that box, suffocated or starved to death. And he was standing there with his hand on that lever and he wouldn't look at us and _I couldn't do anything to stop him_."

And then suddenly all the anger disappeared and his body seemed to fold on itself until all that was left was the crumpled form of a broken boy. Jemma was immediately at his side, holding and comforting him even as her own tears threatened to fall. She whispered soothing words into his ear as he fell apart on her shoulder.

"Shh, Fitz, its fine, we're fine-"

"No we're not,"

"We _are_, Fitz. You got us out. _You _saved us, both of us. We're alive and together, that's all that matters."

She continued to comfort him as he sobbed dejectedly into her shoulder. At one point Trip walked into the control room but, upon seeing the two scientists, promptly backtracked so fast he almost ran into the wall.

Eventually Fitz pulled back from her arms, and took her face between his hands so he was staring down into her eyes. He hadn't always been taller than her; it was only in the last couple or so years that he had actually grown much and he had made such an ecstatic fuss about it, it'd been impossible to be around him without hearing a dwarf joke (to which she'd usually respond with a reference to leprechauns) every five minutes. But Jemma didn't mind, not really.

"You've always been the strong one, Jem," he said softly, looking deeply into her brown eyes. She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "No, it's true. You always have been, and I never minded, because you're amazing, Jem, and there's no one else in the world I love more." A shadow passed over his face. "But in that situation I should've been stronger."

His eyes found the floor; he can't face the trust in her eyes. And so he doesn't see her slap coming until his face suddenly _burns_ and his ears are ringing. He stared at her, more shocked than angry. "Did you just _hit_ me?"

Her eyes blazed fiercely. "You were being an asshole."

He smiled slightly. "You've never said that before. Skye's being a bad influence on you."

"Don't blame Skye for this. And don't you dare blame yourself." She stepped even closer to him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him lightly. "We're here, Leo Fitz, we're alive _because of you_. There is no other person alive who I would've rather been stuck in there with. You, not me, got us out. Without you, we wouldn't've survived. Without you no one would've known we were stuck down there and our bodies would've slowly decayed to dust. Without you-" her voice cracked and she collapsed into Fitz's chest, her face buried in his thick jumper so that her next words are slightly muffled. "Without you I wouldn't know who I was anymore."

Fitz's breath caught in his throat. He gathered her in his arms and plants a long kiss on the top of her head and together they clutch each other like the two remaining survivors of an apocalypse. They stood there for... forever, it seems. They only moved when May appeared in the doorway and told them that they will be arriving in 20 minutes and to get down to the cargo bay for briefing in 5. But even then they didn't pull apart; they followed her walking hand-in-hand, together, the way they always did.

* * *

_In his dreams Ward is teetering on the edge of a circular hole in the ground, staring deep down into the shadowy depths. The echoing splashes of water are punctuated by the sobs and panicked breaths as Skye begs him to do something, to help her. Her heavy gasps bounce of the rocky walls and he can hear fear heavy on her voice as she desperately tries to keep her head above the water. He could help her, he could save her, he just needs to move. But all he does is stand there listening as the screams from below slowly die out and the only noise are the gentle drips as the water laps the side of the well. Then suddenly Garret is there, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a crooked smile. "Good job, kid," he says. "you did good." And Grant's trying to remember the colour of Skye's eyes or the way it felt to run his hands through her hair but all of that is fading away as swiftly as water falls through fingertips and the only memory he has left of her is the trust in her eyes as she says softly "you're not a bad man, Grant." But that doesn't matter anymore because she's gone and Garret's hand is still on his shoulder, firmly pulling him away and no matter what Skye tells him, the only good thing he ever had in his life was her and she's gone, she's gone, and-_

He jerked awake with a gasp.

It took him more than a few seconds to slow his racing heart and swirling panic inside his head and even more to realise that May stood in front of him with her arms crossed against her chest and a slim eyebrow quirked.

He sighed and wiped a hand across his eyes. "Don't ask," he said quietly.

"That would imply caring," she said in a neutral voice. "Your services are required in the cargo bay. Now." And then she added quietly "don't muck this up, Ward."

Still feeling slightly numb to the situation, Ward stood up and followed the older agent towards the end of the bus. His heart picked up with every step he took, because he knew that if Coulson needed him it meant that there had been a lead on whoever had sent the photo of Skye, and he couldn't help but feel that every movement bought him closer to the girl who had haunted his dreams for so long.

He had no idea how she would react, if she would punch him on sight like Fitz or follow May's lead and act with indifference. But yet again, it was Skye, and whatever she did would be sure to surprise him. She always had.

The cargo bay went silent as he walked in. Fitzsimmons, in the middle of setting up the communication, froze with matching expressions of apprehension. In the dead silence, Trips let out an appreciative whistle. "Damn Fitz, where did you learn to throw a punch like that? That's a shiner Ward's got." Fitz gave a small smile.

"I taught him."

Ward's breath hitched, because there she was, coming down the spiraling stairs towards them. His deprived eyes drank in the sight of her. She had cut her hair shorter, so it flowed in loose curls to partway below her shoulders but apart from that she looked no different to when he had last seen her months ago. But even has he looked he realised that that wasn't exactly true was it? Skye had changed. There was a new look in her eyes which he hadn't seen before, one that said she'd seen the darkness the world contained and been changed in the process. Dark smudges coloured the area below her eyes and, he realised with a twinge of concern, she appeared to have lost several pounds since he had last seen her. With an ICER tucked into the waistband of her jeans, she looked older, tougher. Inside he mourned for the loss of innocence she had once possessed and hated himself for the part he had played in that. They all waited with a bated breath for her reaction...

Turns out he needn't have worried; she didn't look at him. She kept her eyes fixed on Fitzsimmons and made her way quickly over to where they were, not once acknowledging his presence. Huh, pretending he was invisible. Somehow that hurt even more.

"Sorry I'm late, but you won't believe what I just found on yout-" she stopped at the pointed glance from Coulson. "Sorry."

Ward held back a snort, because her entry was so completely _Skye_ that it was hard not to laugh- he managed it, though, with a sharp glare from May, and even though he could've spent hours reveling in the fact that Skye was standing metres away from him, Ward forced himself to return his attention to the matter at hand.

"Right," Coulson was saying. "I know most of you will be confused as to why we've landed in Hong Kong."

_'Hong Kong?' _Ward thought to himself, '_What possible lead could have bought us to Japan?'_. He didn't have good memories of this place. The last time the Bus had bought them here was when Skye had betrayed them for Miles. He remembered the hurt he had felt when she had helped him, her oldest friend from the Rising Tide, over her team. How ironic it was that they would return here with such a completely different situation.

"The truth is," Coulson continued, "we haven't been very honest with you. A week ago, this photo was sent to SHIELD's private files. " He tapped a remote in his hand and an image appeared on the glass screen behind him. It was a grainy shot of one of the bunk rooms on the Bus, Skye's, by the look of the clothes strewn all over the floor. And that meant that the figure sleeping on the bed…

Ward sucked in a breath when he read the caption that accompanied the photo and the full horror of the situation hit him. _'Are you watching closely?'. _Coulson had briefly told him earlier about the image that had been sent to him, but seeing it firsthand made it that much worse.

"Oh, Skye," Jemma said anxiously, concern for her friend plastered over her face.

Coulson was still talking in a commendably level voice. "We have no idea who sent it. All attempts by SHIELD intel have come up with nothing. Whoever it is we can assume as the ability to hack into the Bus's mobile feed and leave no trace. The reason we arrived here is because Skye believes there's someone who can help us."

Silence remained his only reply. Ward figured this was new information only for Fitzsimmons, and the two scientists seemed to be busy processing this sudden new threat.

In an attempt to ease the tension in the room, Skye gave a forced smile and said "but hey, we don't know it's about me, right? For all we know, they could've been trying to catch a look at Trip in the shower." She elbowed the taller agent playfully in the stomach. Everyone gave her a skeptical look, and she sighed in defeat.

"Who's this person we're picking up?" Fitz asked Coulson.

The Director gave a tense smile. "Miles Lydon." He was met with an array of shocked faces, all except Skye, who had a slightly awkward look on her face and May, who was as impassive as usual.

Ward's mind was in turmoil. They were bringing Miles into this? The man who had literally sold out another person to be tested on and killed? Not to mention how he had lied to Skye's face. Ward opened his mouth to voice his displeasure- and was interrupted by Skye's angry snarl. "You got a problem with that, Ward? Are you such a hypocrite as to actually disagree with bringing back someone who lied to us?"

That, and the barely suppressed fury in her brown eyes, was enough to shut him up, but at least she had finally acknowledged he was there.

Coulson was flicking from one person to the other like an interesting tennis match. "Great," he said, "now we've got that reunion sorted. Fitzsimmons, you'll remain on the Bus. We need you monitoring any surveillance cameras surrounding Miles address. He has no idea we're coming, but we need eyes on him at all times. Trip, you'll stay with them. May, Ward and I will take Skye to bring Miles in."

"With all due respect, Sir," Trip asked, "shouldn't Skye stay on the Bus and I come as backup for you?"

Ward agreed with him wholeheartedly, but Coulson replied calmly "We need Skye to convince Miles to come in. I don't think Miles would react very well to having agents turning up on his doorstep. We aren't planning on holding him hostage, we just need his help. If he resists then well," Coulson shrugged, "that's when we bring in the backup. Any questions?" Once again, an awkward silence fell over the group. Skye was still glaring daggers at Ward across the room. "Well then, let's get going, shall we?"

* * *

Being alone in a van with the Cavalry was intimidating to say the least. When they had pulled up around the corner from Miles's apartment block, a dreary grey-painted stack of apartments dotted with tiny glass windows, Coulson had suggested that a less intimidating approach might be more effective in convincing the hacker to cooperate ("after all, we did abandon him in a foreign country with no money"). Despite Ward's protests, Coulson had insisted that May stay with Ward in the van while him and Skye went into the apartment. Ward had watched them walk away, every step making him increasingly worried. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him since they'd left.

And Skye still hadn't talked to him since they had left the Bus.

He couldn't stop replaying the encounter over and over in his head as he waited. He had been stupid, about to argue against Miles's involvement when his own crimes had been so much more horrendous. Why wouldn't she trust Miles more than him? She'd had every right to react the way she did. May wasn't providing any support, just sitting behind the wheel staring out the windshield, determined to ignore his presence. Time ticked by slowly, and Ward felt his unease grow. They shouldn't've been taking this long, right? But Skye was with Coulson, she'd be safe.

Ward was still battling with his conflicting emotions when the silence of the van was shattered by Skye's devastatingly terrified screams echoing through the radio communications.

He was out of his seat before he knew it, throwing open the van door and sprinting across the street towards the building. He distantly heard the sounds of May following him, but all he could focus on was the lingering echoes of Skye's scream and the way her fear had seemed to pierce his very soul. And then he had slammed open the door to the building and thrown himself up the stairs, taking them two at a time. _Third floor_, he remembered from before, _the apartment was on the third floor_, _and Skye, oh god Skye, what had happened? Where was Coulson? What if-what if-_ .He forced himself not to picture her body on the floor, bleeding out from two bullets in the stomach.

Only later would he remember arriving at the right floor and kicking the door inwards with such force that it cracked off its hinges. His eyes took in the room and landed on Coulson desperately trying to comfort a paralyzed Skye as she stared with an absolute horror into the next room. In barely a moment he had crossed the distance and taken Skye's face in his hands, checking her quickly for signs of injury. Finding none and trusting the fact that Coulson and May could handle any imminent threat, he pulled her shaking body to his and murmured softly into her hair, simply assuring himself that Skye was here and hadn't been harmed.

Only after his mind had calmed slightly from the whirlwind of panic did Ward question as to why Skye was allowing him to hold her like this, why she hadn't pulled away with disgust or glared at him. But as he looked beyond where they were standing and into the bedroom, Ward found his answer.

It was a small room, only large enough to hold a single bed pushed into the corner and stack of boxes precariously supporting a laptop and empty cartons of Chinese food. There was a small window on the far side, covered with fraying blue curtains which bathed the room in a dark glow.

The whole scene would have been depressing enough, even without the body of Miles Lydon lying on the bed, sitting in a dark stain of his own blood.

* * *

**So, I just realised that it's kinda creepy writing a murder scene. Who would've thought? hahaha**

**I'm sorry that I'm repeating myself again, but I'm a huge perfectionist with my writing and I'm not too happy with how this story is turning out. I'm not asking for reassurances, I just want to know what you guys honestly think. Being my first fanfic and all, I'm not so sure how this stuff works so you guys are pretty much the first people ever who have read anything I've written, so anything you say means... a lot... like seriously. **

**Okay, well, another thousand thank you's for reading! **

**-F**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, **

**I'm truly really really sorry for the two weeks it took me to update. But good news- I'm on school holiday for three weeks so- hopefully- updates will be a lot more frequent now :) A huge thank you for anyone who reviewed (special thanks to the people who pointed out that Hong Kong isn't in Japan. I would say I was testing you guys but well, who am I kidding? I just suck at geo). Anyway, again a huge thank you to anyone who takes the time to read. **

Chapter five)

Ward swallowed.

By no means was it the first body had he ever seen, but it was definitely up there in terms of gruesomeness. Miles hadn't been shot, or stabbed, or anything that would resemble a gracious death, if there ever was one. No, he had been killed brutally with his throat slit open. He put his hand on the back of Skye's head, making sure that she didn't have to see the jagged red line that streaked across Miles's throat, the way his clothes and bed had been stained dark with blood, or that his eyes stared lifelessly towards some distant point the rest of the world couldn't see. He was surprised when Skye didn't flinch from his contact, instead burying her head in his chest.

Ward hesitated. He knew that she was only allowing him to hold her because she was falling apart and he had been the closest one to her, but at that moment his brain was so numb with the relief that Skye was in his arms and hadn't been hurt that not even a direct order from Coulson couldn't make him let go.

"Phil." The way in which May used Coulson's first name like a warning was enough to have Ward protectively hugging Skye closer to him. He looked back over his shoulder and saw what had May so concerned. He'd been so caught up in making sure Skye was alright that he hadn't spotted the message scrawled on the wall in bright red- blood, Ward's head told him even as he tried to deny it. '_Are you watching closely?_' was what had been said to them earlier, was what had driven them to seek out Miles in the first place. And now they had been provided with a second staggering message.

_'The past is written in blood after all.'_ Underneath the writing was a single bloody handprint.

Coulson's face was grim when he turned back, and that frown only deepened when he saw Ward holding Skye so closely. "Skye?" Coulson said as he approached slowly.

Ward felt her tense in his arms, and sighed, realizing that his brief moment of pretending was over. He unhooked her hands from where they had bunched in his shirt and took a step backward. Skye took a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. "Let's go," she said in such a vulnerable voice that it took all of Ward's willpower not to gather her small form in his arms again. She turned her back on the horrible scene and, without looking at any of their faces, walked back out the door. May followed her out after a solemn nod from Coulson.

Ward waited until after they had left before turning to the Coulson. "What the hell is this?" he questioned angrily, gesturing towards the writing on the wall.

Coulson's face was grim. "Someone got to Miles before we did."

"_Who_ got to him? What do they want with her?" Ward's fear for Skye was making him frustrated.

Coulson looked at him sharply. "What did Raina ever tell you of Skye's parents?"

That took Ward back. "She told me they were monsters, that they had massacred an entire village looking for their kid. You think they're responsible for this?"

Coulson turned around to look at the message dripping blood down the wall. Ward had never thought of him as old before- you never could think of someone like that when they still knew about ten ways to kill you with a pen- but at that moment he looked as if he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I hope not," he said quietly, "if they killed hundreds trying to find her before, what's to stop them now? I don't-" he stopped suddenly. "Do you smell something?"

Ward sniffed the air once, confirming what his brain had already guessed. "Gas," he concluded, "I smell gas."

He scanned the room, and out of the corner of his eye spotted it- a small flicker of flame. His mind went into overdrive, but even so he barely had enough time to grab Coulson and yank him down to the ground before the apartment exploded into a whirlwind of debris and flames.

And then right before darkness overtook his vision, once his world stopped shaking and all he could see was the swirling clouds of dust, he let himself imagine that it was Skye's voice he could hear, desperately calling his name.

* * *

The first thing Ward realised when he returned to consciousness was that he couldn't move. Panic raced through him and he struggled against whatever was holding his wrists down. Distantly, he heard a furious beeping from one of the machines around him but the only sound that registered was his heart drumming in his ears.

"Ward," he heard softly. His head jerked towards the sound of the voice and he watched closely as Simmons walked slowly towards him. "You're back on the Bus," she said in a cautious voice. She stepped closer to his side and undid the ties holding his wrists down. "Sorry about the restraints, you wouldn't stop moving when they bought you in."

He lifted up a limp hand and tugged away the breath mask covering his mouth. "Skye?" he rasped, surprised at the dryness of his own voice.

She gave a small and tentative smile. "Skye's fine. May kept her safe," the scientist looked down, her fingers played with the paper she held in her hands and when she spoke again, it was rushed and nervous. "Coulson, ah, he told us you pulled him down when the room exploded."

Ward didn't really know how to respond to that- so he asked instead "is he alright?"

Jemma nodded frantically. "Oh yes- he's fine. His oxygen stats were a bit low when he returned but not nearly on the same caliber as yours, but I guess that could have something to do with the location and frequency of the tremors. Also he suffered a few abrasions from the-"

"Simmons," Ward interrupted.

She released a breath. "I'm sorry," she said, wringing her hands, "Just nervous."

"I can tell."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you, for helping Coulson."

Ward just nods, not trusting himself to not say anything which could ruin this precarious moment I which Simmons has willingly stepped forward to talk to him. And for that moment, everything seemed okay between them.

And then that moment ended. Jemma pulled away, averting her eyes. "I'll, ah," she said quietly, "I'll come back soon. You can go once your oxygen readings have gone back up."

"Just tell me," he said quickly, trying to get back the honesty that had been between them only seconds before. "How's Skye, really."

The young scientist sighed. "She just saw her oldest friend murdered. She's shaken, blaming herself, won't let any of us near her." She looked at Ward closely. "Maybe she'd talk to someone she doesn't want to talk to."

Ward released a small, breathless laugh. "I'm the last one she'd want to see to right now."

Jemma shrugged. "I think you'd be surprised."

* * *

The second Simmons gives him the go ahead, Ward is out of the infirmary and racing toward the cargo bay mere seconds later. He'd never been too fond of hospitals and only ever visited them in situation like this; ones when he wasn't in control. Besides, he felt fine. Aside from a slight lightheadedness when he moved his head too quickly, and the fact that his whole body felt like one giant bruise, he could almost have believed that a building hadn't just dropped down on his head.

Trip was leaning against the metal railing when Ward walked into the cargo hold. The younger specialist looked up as Ward approached, and then returned his gaze to the area below. Ward took his lack of protest as permission to come closer.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, until Trip said suddenly "you know, I never would've guessed it about you." A familiar sense of unease fell over Ward. "I mean sure," Trip continued, "I knew nothing about you except that you could shoot a gun and didn't get along with people. But I never placed you as such a damn good actor on top of it all."

Ward didn't answer. He clenched his hands onto the railing and looked straight ahead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Trip shrug. "But I guess you never really know what's going on inside someone's head, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now, would ya Ward?" He nodded his head towards Skye, who Ward had just spotted sitting curled up against the wall on the ground below them. "That's girls family, so you better not be acting anymore."

To Ward's ears, that sounded almost like forgiveness, and for a moment all he can do is stand there and stare dumfounded at the man who he has known for so little but has decided to give him another chance.

Trip smiled. "But I think you've got to get her back first, man," he gives Ward a shove-not too gently- towards the stairs. "Now would be a good time to start." He watched Ward slowly walk down the stairs before he turned and walked back further into the plane.

Skye made no movement as Ward approached cautiously. She remained curled up in a ball against the far wall, her arms around her knees and her eyes trained to the ground. There were no tears in her eyes, but there was a visible tremor in her limbs that had Ward worried even more.

Broken isn't a word that he would use to describe Skye. She's usually so full of life and laughter that it would be impossible to see her as anything less. There had been exceptions, of course; on her first solo mission infiltrating Quinn's party there had been real fear in her eyes when he had saved her from the guards. Or again, in Italy, when they'd found her bleeding out on the cellar floor. All of those times had bought a wave of protectiveness in Ward that he hadn't felt in a long time. And he felt it again then, that same need to gather her up in his arms and protect her from everything the world seems determined to keep throwing at her. But he couldn't, he knew he couldn't. This wasn't like any of those times and he certainly wasn't deluded enough to think that the one hug back in Miles's apartment had meant anything.

No, Skye was much too smart to trust him again so soon.

"I know you don't want to talk to me," he said slowly as he approached. "But Skye, I need to talk to you. I need to know that you're dealing with this."

She rolled her eyes up to look at him, and the despair there hit him like a bullet. "Why?" she choked out. "Why do you need to know? You're not my SO anymore, you lost that right a long time ago."

"I know that," he accepted.

She let out a slow breath and fixed her eyes back on the floor. "I met him when I was nineteen."

Ward just stands there. He had no need to ask who she was talking about. Loss was written plain on her face.

"At the time, he just seemed so perfect," she continued. "I had just cut ties with everyone from the orphanage, just got my van, just started learning everything about what groups like SHIELD did. And here's this boy telling me all the things I wanted to hear; that the government was corrupt and keeping secrets from the people, things which we needed to know. He taught me almost everything I know, and in a way, I guess, he bought me to SHIELD," she swept her hands through her hair. "There was a time when I would've done anything for him; he was all I had."

"You loved him," Ward stated. Learning her history with Miles wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, but it was clear she needed to get it out of her system. She was talking, and that's all that really mattered to him.

"I guess I did. But you know what I think? I think people's capacity for love changes. I was a teenager when I met him, of course I fell hard. But God, I was so stupid back then. I could've stopped so many people getting hurt but I didn't! Cos I was a stupid girl with a crush that didn't see him for who he truly was and now he's dead and I hate him, Ward. I hate him! I hate-"

She started punch the floor with her fists as tears which she had tried desperately to hold fell down her pale cheeks. Without another thought, Ward had pulled her into his arms and held her close to his body while she sobbed onto his shoulder. But just like before, he felt her tense in his arms and pull away.

"No, no, no, no. You can't do this," she yelled, her voice raising. "You can't be all… you again. Cos it's not true! You're a liar and a murder and a backstabbing traitor and there's nothing you can say that will undo it Grant! You can't just waltz back on in here and expect everything to go back to the way it was before, expect that I still love you, cos I don't Ward! I don't!"

And then in one moment it was like she lost all her energy; her legs collapsed and Ward had to lunge forward to catch her before she hit the ground hard. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. "He's dead," she said breathlessly. "Miles's is dead and it's all my fault."

"No," Ward told her firmly. He tilted her chin up so she was looking into his eyes. "Don't think for a second that you're to blame for this."

Fresh tears spilled down her face. "What do they want from me?" she said in a voice struggling to mask the fear.

"I don't know. But I promise, Skye, I promise, that we'll find out. We'll keep you safe."

Skye fell silent, her eyes scanning his face looking for… what? A hint that he was lying? Something that would convince her of what her mind was trying to convey, that he couldn't be trusted? He kept still, letting her come to her own conclusion.

"I told you once," she said slowly, "that I'll never understand why you did those things, and I hold by that. I'm not a good enough person to forgive you for what you've done. But maybe- maybe- I can learn to live with you again."

And for the moment, that's all Ward needed to hear.

* * *

Coulson was watching Ward and Skye on the security feed from his office when Trip walked in. May was hovering over his shoulder like a hawk, and Coulson suppressed a smile. She cared more for the young hacker than she acted and was fiercely protective over her, particularly when it came to Ward.

"Ward just went to talk to Skye," Trip said as he came into the office.

"I know," Coulson said simply, nodding his head towards his laptop.

"I'm surprised you're letting him near her," Trip replied, surprised.

"No," Coulson corrected, "Skye's letting him near her."

"And you're completely fine with that?"

Coulson returned his gaze to the screen's monitor. His impression of their former specialist had become extremely conflicted of late. Ward had undoubtedly saved him from serious injury this afternoon in Miles's apartment. And then there was all he had been recently told about Ward's past…

"I don't want to watch her get hurt anymore," Trip continued.

"Then Ward isn't our concern," Coulson told them. "I trust him with her, and that's all I need to know at this time. What does concern me is whoever killed Miles Lydon. They blew up an apartment with us still in it. I'm pissed off."

"The same people that sent us the first picture of Skye," May clarified.

"Undoubtedly."

"Well that narrows it down then," Trip said, rolling his eyes. "Was there another message?"

"'The past is written in blood after all'", May recited, her face devoid of emotion.

"Even creepier than the last one," Trip muttered.

Coulson turned to May. "I'm guessing you saw it too."

The woman nodded. "It was written in fresh blood. The kill was recent too."

"The son of a bitch knew we were coming," Trip guessed, looking around at the two older agent's faces for confirmation. "Forget about Hydra; cut off one Clairvoyant's head, another two takes its place."

* * *

**So all of you that have seen the season finale should know the significance of a bloody hand... if not, I guess now's a really bad time to warn for spoilers. Anyway, thank you all so so so much for reading, and if you could review just to let me know what you think, it would make my day. Seriously. **

**Talk to ya guys soon, kay? **

**-F**


	6. Chapter 6

**Howdy hooligans, huge thanks to anyone who reviewed, any comments or thoughts are amazing! This was originally supposed to be a small part of the next chapter, but it turned out to be a bit longer than I imagined, so instead it might seem like nothing happens much in this chapter, but its important... trust me :P **

Chapter six)

Night fell over quickly on the Bus. Everyone, exhausted by the events of the day and still recovering from several injuries, returned to their rooms early, mutually agreeing to miss dinner in favor of losing themselves in sleep. Ward had been told that Trip had taken his old room, so instead he was given one of the holding cells- complete with a few more blankets to make it a bit less like a prison. Besides, apparently the device around his wrist had been programmed to prevent him from entering any of the teams' living quarters. Ward didn't mind though; maybe a bit of isolation would allow him to sort through the mess in his head and work on his promise to Skye: figuring out why she was being hunted.

However, although his cell back at SHIELD had been far smaller, Ward felt cramped in this new room. He lay on the bed and desperately wished that the images in his brain would stop spinning and he might be able to get some sleep for a change. It was probably around 2am when he realised just how hopeless this was, and instead decided to put his insomnia to good use and get some training in. He'd managed to retain some of his fitness during his time in his cell, but it had been months since he'd done any combat exercises.

The muted lighting guided him as he crept through the plane. It was practically dead quiet, except for the distant roar of the engines, and Ward had every intention of making as little noise as possible. He didn't expect anyone, even May, to be awake at this time, which was why he was surprised to hear the whisper of voices as he passed by the girl's bunks.

He stopped in his tracks by the door, conflicted. The last thing he wanted was to be caught hanging outside Skye's room like a lovesick teenager but there was a voice inside his head that told him that he'd want to hear what was being said on the other side of the door.

He recognized Skye's voice instantly. "Shh, Jem," she said, "its fine, you're fine. You're not there anymore. You and Fitz are back on the Bus and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?"

Simmons's voice was quieter, uncertain. "I know you will, Skye, but what about Fitz? He's- something's different about him and… I'm scared what he'll do if something happens to anyone else."

"He is different," Skye admitted. "But can you blame him if he's angry about what happened? He's got you, Jem, you're the one thing that's keeping him grounded right now."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about! I don't want there to be just _one_ thing. What if I can't be there? What if I say or do the wrong thing and it just sends him-"

"Hey, shhh, calm down. You don't have to do anything, you just have to be _you_. That's all he needs right now. He'll learn to open up to the rest of us with time."

"Do you really think so?" Jemma said almost desperately.

"I know so," and Ward could hear the smile on Skye's voice, "and you know what a winner I am at relationships. I mean, look at my track record of past boyfriends. Unbeatable."

"I'm sorry, we've been focusing on me the entire time when you have much worse things going on. How are you feeling about Miles?"

"I- I don't know. I feel like it's stupid to feel sad about him when he practically sold someone to the slaughterhouse."

"He was one of your oldest friends, Skye," Simmons said soothingly. "No matter what he did, you can mourn that side of him, the one you loved."

"Yeah, I guess," Skye's tone made it clear she didn't want to talk about Miles.

"And Ward?" Jemma said uncertainly. "How do we know we can trust him?"

"We can't," was Skye's simple reply. "No matter what he does, a part of me will always hate him."

Ward's blood ran cold. Yep, he definitely didn't want to hear this but still something, some small part of his mind, kept him rooted in place.

"But," she continued, "I've been thinking about what Coulson told us; about… his brother and Garret and everything that happened before he joined SHIELD. It's like he was brainwashed into truly believing he owed Garret everything. He wasn't loyal to Hydra, he was loyal to the man which gave him a new life. It's sad and horrible but… sorta brave at the same time. He was so blindingly faithful to someone that he would do anything for him."

"Too bad that person was a psychotic half-robot killing machine."

Skye chuckled. "Yeah, it was."

"When did you get so smart?" Ward heard Simmons ask.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I put on the whole teen-fangirl act so that I can simply astound everyone later?"

"Not once."

Skye, laughing, said "Good answer."

On the other side of the door, Ward stood, absolutely floored by what he just overheard. He couldn't begin to fathom how Skye had managed to understand him. No- not understand, _accept_. She'd proved on multiple accounts in the past the ability to understand someone's thought processes and actions, but this was a totally different league. She had no reason to have anything more to do with him, and yet somehow she was willing to see his side of the story. And that completely staggers the older specialist.

Ward was snapped out of his daze by the sound of approaching footsteps. He jerked his head up, fists rising automatically into a defensive position- before relaxing once he saw that it was Coulson walking towards him. "Apparently no one sleeps on this plane anymore," Ward said in an attempt to make light what could've potentially been a very awkward situation.

There was no reply.

"Coulson," Ward repeated. The older man didn't even look at him. He walked past and continued down the hall in a slow, measured pace.

The ice cold feeling that he got right before a kill swept through Ward. His senses screamed at him that something was wrong. Coulson could've been sleepwalking, but his eyes were eerily open; glassy and unfocused, and no matter what Ward said it was like nothing penetrated his dream-like state.

Ward followed the agent back down the hall, fully prepared to shake Coulson back to his senses, when he heard a voice.

"You can't do anything."

Ward spun around, hand clenched into a fist, and found Skye staring back at him.

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You didn't hear me coming? You need to work on your spatial awareness."

He blinked at her. That was something he had repeatedly told her when he was her SO. She rolled her eyes and shoved past him before following Coulson down the silent plane. Ward hesitated for only a second before chasing after her.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" he asked Skye, taking long strides to catch up to her. "Why can't he hear us?"

Skye shrugged. "No idea. Found him walking around one of the first nights at the Playgro-_Hub_. At the Hub."

Ward didn't comment on her slip-up. Showing an interest in one of SHIELD's secret bases probably wouldn't be the smartest thing to do. Instead, he asked "and he does this every night?"

Skye bit her lip, a haunted look in her eyes. "Not exactly. Most of the time he just walks around like a zombie," they turned a corner, and came into an area of the Bus that Ward had never seen before, "other times, he does this."

Ward stared in shock. In front of him was a giant pane of glass, several metres across and rising far above his head. The once-smooth surface had been marred by hundreds upon hundreds of etchings and carvings; lines and interlinking circles and other symbols which seemed so alien in the otherwise modern environment. Coulson stood in front the glass, not moving, just staring at the carvings with wide, unseeing eyes.

But the worst part about it was that Ward had seen the writing before.

He took an unsteady step backwards as the weight of several memories-ones from a time he had been trying to block out- were forced into his head again. _Garret, scratching lines and circles onto the glass from a window. Garret, a crazed look of ecstatic joy on his face as he tore out a man's rib. 'I can see the world, Ward,' he had proclaimed. _

"Ward?"

_Garret ordering him to take care of Fitzsimmons, the approval on his face when Ward told him it was taken care of. _

"Ward! Hey, snap out of it!"

He gasped, and fell headfirst back into reality. The first thing he noticed was that Skye's hands were on his shoulders, keeping him from falling backwards into a stack of boxes and her face was inches from his own. Seeing realization return to his eyes, she released him and took a step backward, her eyes wide.

"What was that?" she said slowly, her voice full of confusion.

He took a deep steadying breath and clenched his hands in an attempt to hide how much they were shaking. "It's nothing, I'm fine," he said. He was quite impressed at how calm he sounded.

Skye's eyes glinted suspiciously in the half-light. "You know, you used to be a much better liar."

Ward looked away. In an attempt to change the subject, he asked "does anyone else know about… this?" He gestured vaguely towards where Coulson stood like an eerie statue.

Skye was still staring at him. "May does," she said slowly. "Nothing goes on in this plane without her knowing."

"Okay, that's fine, but you need to keep it that way, Skye, alright? No one else can know about this. It's important."

"Why?" she asked, startled at the intensity of his voice. She drew in a sharp breath. "Do you know what this is?"

Ward bit his lip, torn between his unsaid promise to never lie to her again and a wish to not worry her when it wasn't necessary. "We have no idea what this is," he said finally, keeping his voice even. "We don't know why, or how, or who might be interested in this. The less people that know about this, the better."

"But Coulson-"

"Wouldn't want us jumping into something else we don't know anything about."

There was a long silence, in which Ward found himself holding his breath, waiting to see what Skye would do. Finally, she grit her teeth and said "fine, but this does not mean I trust you."

Ward nodded, the conversation he'd overheard between her and Simmons still playing over in his mind.

Skye walked over to the nearest wall and slid down so she was sitting cross-legged against it. "Get some sleep, Ward," she said quietly.

Ward didn't bother arguing that she needed rest more, if her slumped shoulders and dark eyes were anything to go by. But she was looking out for Coulson, and Ward knew that nothing could make her leave the person she looked up to like a father. "Are you going to be fine?" he asked quietly.

She looked up at him, and he marveled at the fact that no matter how tired or sad she was, her eyes always seemed so bright. "I'm gonna stay here," she said, "make sure he doesn't do anything more like a character from Paranormal Activity."

Ward hid a smirk, because in this situation nothing should be amusing and yet Skye was still able to joke around. When he had first met her that had irritated him, the fact that she took nothing seriously, but now it just made her seem strong, unbreakable.

He walked away, leaving Coulson in her very capable hands. When he returned to his bunk he allowed some of the panic he hidden before show. He paced around the room, thinking about what he had just learnt and how it might tie in with everything that had been going on, because if he had learnt one thing in being an agent, it was that nothing happened without a reason.

Had Coulson always been acting like this- ever since the TAHITI project? But they'd been living on the same plane in close proximity for months, and Ward wasn't exactly a stranger to midnight musings; surely if Coulson had been walking around at night drawing strange symbols on a wall someone would have realised before now. So what had changed? What had suddenly bought about this sudden surge of abnormal behavior?

If Coulson was showing some of the same effects as Garret had, the only thing they had in common was the exposure to GH-325. Something in that drug was making them act like this, like they had a closer tie to its alien source. But then why hadn't Skye shown some of the same signs? Something to do with her parents?

Ward continued to muse over these questions till even right before he fell into an uneasy sleep. Needless to say his dreams were haunted by Garret that night.

* * *

**So, there's another chapter. I apologize again if it was a bit boring, but the next part should get the story going again.**

**Anyways, review? Please? :)**

**Thanks heaps**

**-F**


	7. Chapter 7

**Massive sorry for the time it took to update, big thanks for you guys for being so patient and for any and all reviews :) On with that chapter then, shall we? **

Chapter seven)

"Wake up."

Ward's eyes shot open and a fraction of a second later he had sat up and reached for the weapon that he always kept underneath his pillow- before he remembered where he was and that he hadn't had access to a weapon in three months. For the first few weeks of his imprisonment they hadn't even given him a fork for fear he would stage an elaborate jailbreak like in Shawshank redemption or something.

His quick scan of the room showed him that it was only May who had woken him, and was now standing in front of the closed door with her usual Cavalry-death-glare plastered on her face.

He flopped back on the bed. "I assume you're here to kill me for real this time," he waved a hand absently in the air above his head. "Please, just get on with it so I can sleep."

"I see prison made you dramatic."

Ward swung his legs to the floor and sat up. "No," he said simply. "That's not dramatic. What's dramatic is you barging into my room for the second time in a week and then standing there expecting me to figure out why."

"Would it have had the same impact if I knocked first?"

"Definitely not."

"Then it works."

Ward laughed, once, bitterly, but all the same it surprised him that May could elicit such a sound from him. No emotion broke past May's carefully constructed shield, but she took a few steps closer into the room.

"Last night; I assume Skye told you about Coulson," the older agent stated.

"She did."

"And what do you think about it?"

"I think you need to know one thing."

May quirked one eyebrow, the only outward sign that she was interested. "And what, exactly, is that?" she said slowly, carefully.

Ward swallowed, preparing himself to share memories that he was only just beginning to confront himself. And with Melinda May of all people. He hadn't even told his therapist about that time, despite her best efforts to make him 'share the load.'

He cleared his throat. "Back on the Bus, with Garret and Raina, when she injected him with the GH-325 it didn't just save his life. It changed him. I know Coulson would've told you that he lost his mind, that he began spouting out crap like he was God. But it was more than that. I knew that man for more than 10 years and I've never seen him act how he did after that drug." Ward didn't want to admit how hard it was for him to refer to Garret in the past tense. Somehow he didn't think it'd go down very well. "I watched him rip apart a man with his bare hands but before that, he started drawing those same symbols."

He watched May's eyes darken with anger. Her hand at her side twitched, and he had to stop himself from taking a step back for fear she would suddenly lash out. But for the first time in a while, Ward didn't think that anger was directed at him. No, she was just angry at the world, for throwing yet another thing at them to fix, and this one at Coulson, who Ward knew everyone was fiercely protective over. "We'll deal with it when it comes," was all she finally managed to say.

Ward knew enough not to ask how they were going to achieve that when they didn't even know why Coulson and Garret had acted like this in the first place. Instead he nodded and watched May stride out of the room with a cold look that would've sent Fury himself flinching at.

Ward sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He felt exhausted enough to fall right back asleep again, but he knew that wasn't possible. He had to talk to Skye, he had to find Coulson, and he had to… do a thousand things which unfortunately did not involve falling back onto the bed.

He sat up quickly when May opened his door again. "And Ward," she said firmly, "don't repeat to Skye what you just told me."

Ward wanted to protest, wanted to stand up to the older agent and say that Skye deserved to know. But then he remembered how tired she had looked the night before and just how many things she'd had to deal with over the past few months, and found himself nodding in agreement.

Reluctantly, and with much protest from his aching muscles, he slid off the bed and went off in search of some much-needed coffee and after that, hopefully, his brain would be alert enough to think about what they needed to do next.

* * *

Meanwhile Skye was lost in the monotonous rhythm of attacking the punching bag, something that required very little brain power for which she was thankful. It'd been around 5.30 when the Coulson-sleepwalker-thing had returned to his room, which by her reckoning was too late (too early?) for her to get some sleep. All that would happen would be that someone would need her half an hour later and she'd wake up feeling worse than she was now. Skye knew that she would crash sometime soon, but she was hoping excessive amounts of coffee loaded with sugar- a habit she had never grown out of- might postpone that a bit.

Hearing someone shout her name loudly, Skye turned, pulling out her headphones and wiping her forehead with her wrapped hands. "What's up, Fitz?" she said upon seeing the scientist. "Where's Jem?"

"Having a shower," he answered, making his way down the spiral staircase to where she stood.

"Hey, I found this awesome ninja-move on YouTube yesterday," she jabbed playfully at his shoulder. "Want me to shoooow ya?"

"Maybe later," he replied impatiently.

Skye looked up, suddenly on edge from Fitz's brush off comment and the fact that he was standing in front of her clenching and unclenching his fists every few seconds. "What's going on, Fitz?" she asked cautiously, resisting the impulse to take a step away from him.

Fitz looked her dead in the eye. "What happened with you and Ward last night?"

"What?" Skye gasped, startled. "What happened with me and… what?"

"You. And. Ward," he repeated, stepping closer to her, close enough for Skye to see the half-crazed look in his eyes. She felt a sliver of fear. Fitz had moments like this, moments when he scared even Jemma with some of the things he said about revenge and hate. "You two weren't nearly as quiet as you thought," he continued, "sneaking off into the night like that."

"Fitz, it wasn't anything like what you're thinking." If this was any other situation, at any other time, it would've almost been funny. In some twisted way she couldn't help but feel like a rebellious teenager, caught after sneaking out with her boyfriend.

"Good," Fitz replied. " Because the last time Ward was on this plane and we trusted him, Jemma and I ended up at the bottom of the ocean. I'm not going to let you fall in love with that monster again."

Skye gasped. "Let me? _Let me_? You can't let me fall in love with him even more than I can. It's not like a switch you can turn on and off."

Fitz clenched his jaw. "He's a murderer."

"You think I don't know that?" she exclaimed. "You think I've forgotten all that he's done?"

"You're acting like it."

"Don't you think there's more to the story than just what happened three months ago?"

"That's what you want to think. That's what all of you want to think. But I haven't forgotten. He looked us in the eye and let us fall to the bottom of the ocean."

"It was supposed to float, Fitz!" Skye yelled, "You said that yourself!" She stepped back and ran a hand through her sweaty hair. For some reason, she always ended up saying that. It was like some desperate attempt at defending- not Ward exactly, more the fact that she hadn't been completely stupid as to fall in love with a murdering psychopath.

She took a breath. "I've had enough Fitz. I know it was your own personal hell in that pod. I know that it was the freakin' abyss in your life but _that_ is why they call it the bottom. Because you have to move on, stop letting it dominate your life, and build on top of it," she stepped closer so she was looking him dead in the eye. "You have to stop defining your life around what happened that day and open your eyes and realise that Simmons is right in front of you. She's not dead. You're not dead. You're both alivebut that means you have to_ live_, Fitz. You have to accept that Ward is torturing himself enough without the rest of the world piling it on top of him too."

"I can't accept that," Fitz snarled.

"And I can't accept this person you've become. Out of the whole team, you had the most faith. You stubbornly refused to believe Ward had betrayed us even when I was screaming at you to see it."

"Look where that go-"

"And we need that person back," she interrupted. Skye needed him to hear this; she had to make him understand. "The one that believed that no one is born evil, Fitz, we need. Him. Back. Because the rest of us could use hope right now."

And she swears she could see Fitz break right before her eyes as he said quietly "I don't think I know what hope is anymore."

"Hey, look at me," Skye put her hands on his shoulders. "Hope," she said quietly, "is fighting for the person we knew, and praying that he's still there somewhere."

Fitz stared at her for a few seconds before gathering her in his arms. "I'm sorry, Skye. I'm so sorry," he whispered in her hair.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Fitz," she whispered, somewhat muffled against his shoulder.

They clung to each other for an unmeasurable amount of time, taking comfort in each other and the fact that out of the whole team, they were the ones that had been most affected by Ward's betrayal.

"Fitz," May's voice rang out through the room, startling them both. They looked up to see her standing stoically on the stairs. "Simmons wanted you in the control room," she said in an even voice.

Fitz nodded and gave Skye one last look before walking towards the staircase.

Skye turned back to the punching bag and gave it one weak slap. She could feel May's gaze boring into her back and asked "how much did you hear?"

"Enough."

Skye sighed before giving the bag a fierce kick, stumbling slightly as she did.

"You need to keep your weight more centered."

Slightly irked, Skye turned to the older agent. "Sorry, but my SO went to the dark side before we could get to learning the proper way to kick something."

May remained unfazed. She knew Skye wasn't truly angry at her, more at the direction her life had taken during the past few months. She had found somewhere she belonged, a home, but that sense of security had been taken from her by one of the people she trusted most. And then more recently, when she had found one of her oldest friends with his throat slit open by someone who hunted her for reasons they didn't understand yet. It was enough to make the strongest person break, May knew that personally.

She suddenly decided that teaching Skye to fight- properly, not the brawn-over-brain way that Ward had- might not be such a bad idea. "Keep your knees bent," she instructed, moving closer to the young agent. "That way your centre of gravity is much lower so if I do _this_," she shoved Skye in the shoulder, making her stumble back a few steps. "_that_ won't happen."

Skye righted herself and resumed punching the bag with, May noticed with approval, a much better stance. She moved around to Skye's front. "Keep your chin down," she said next, tapping it gently. "You're just asking for a knockout punch if you keep it up like that. And swing more from the hips. You'll gain more power in your swing that way."

Skye stared at her with wide eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked silently.

"I'm teaching you how to survive," May replied simply.

Skye's eyebrows furrowed. "But why now? You've watched me train hundreds of times, why are you helping me now?"

May shrugged. "Maybe I'm taking pity on you."

"Maybe you want to show Ward up as an SO," Skye corrected. May acknowledged this with a dip of her head and Skye chuckled.

For the next hour the two practiced several different styles and moves, usually with a running commentary of improvements from May. Skye, despite the strenuous exercise, found herself relaxing for what felt like the first time in days. Over the past few months she had been using practice as a way to override her emotional mess on the inside; the resulting physical pain from training was much better than what she felt towards Ward. But with May it was like she didn't have the time to think about anything except the movement, and she didn't feel like she was about to collapse under the weight of Ward's return, or Miles' death or what had happened to Fitzsimmons. She didn't have to think of anything.

So it took a while for her to notice Coulson's presence, standing a couple of feet away from them. She stopped suddenly, panting heavily and her hair plastered across her forehead, and studied him carefully. He had a somber expression on his face, but nothing else, nothing that told her he remembered anything that had happened the night before.

"We got a lead on who killed Miles," he said finally.

* * *

**So I'm not too sure how I feel about that chapter, but anyways, we'll go with it. **

**Please let me know what you guys think, or just any ideas of what you want to see happen :)**

**Thanks a lot,**

**-F**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, if you don't want to hear an incredibly long-winded author's note skip this now and carry on with the chapter, 'cos I've got several things I need to say. **

**First (and most importantly), a huge thank-you to everyone that's still reading this story. You guys rock. Seriously. I'm really sorry it took me this long to update (seriously, it's almost midnight here and I have school tomorrow, but I have no regrets! I wanted this chapter done!), and I'm even more sorry to say that it'll probably take longer for the next chapter. I have a hockey tournament next week followed by two weeks of intense exams so I doubt I'll have enough time to write. Such fun. **

**Okay, secondly, I'm a high school amateur writer. I've never claimed to be good, I just ask for constructive criticism. ****_Constructive_**** criticism. I'm not such a fan of ****_someone_**** saying, and I quote, "get off this website, you ugly b****. You obviously don't have any idea how people work or any idea how to write whatsoever. The team would never accept Ward the way you've written it, and I'll shoot myself before seeing season 2 end up like this." Okay, that review hurt. I'm only grateful that you private messaged me that one so that you didn't waste any of my other readers time. I'm fine with anything you guys have to say, as long as it is trying to help me or the story. And, just to end that rant off at that reviewer, I have one photo of me on my profile and I'll probably take that off now, but don't freaking judge someone just for that. God, I hate the internet sometimes. **

**Blah, for every other NICE person out there, sorry 'bout that. Hope you enjoy the chapter :) **

_Chapter eight:_

Skye was moving before Coulson had finished his sentence, racing up the stairs and brushing past Coulson as if she hadn't just spent the last hour in an intense exercise session with the Cavalry. She arrived in the control room, breathless, startling Fitzsimmons who had been tapping away at the holographic screen. "Who is it?" she demanded to the two scientists.

"Skye," Trip tried to intervene.

"It's no one that you know," Coulson said, entering the room trailed closely by May.

She turned towards the director. "I'd still like to know."

Coulson nodded, before motioning to Fitz to bring up the files on the screen. Skye watched with a bated breath as the headshot of an American-looking man appeared in front of her. He looked in his twenties, definitely older than her, but still relatively young to be alone in a foreign country. Coulson was right, Skye had ever seen him before in her life, but something about him seemed… familiar… somehow.

Coulson approached the table. "Ever since the explosion at Miles's apartment we've been looking through the security footage from that day," he explained. "Most of the cameras were destroyed in the blast but intelligence managed to scavenge one feed, from a shop down the road, which picked up several of the people around at that time."

Simmons stepped up. "And facial recognition identified this man?"

"It didn't need to." May said from the corner.

And then Skye realised why the man looked so familiar, because it wasn't his face or his name that she knew, but his eyes, a brown so deep they appeared to blur completely with the pupil, looked back at her with the same distrust and analysis that she saw so often with the people she considered her family. And then she realised. "He's an agent of SHIELD." Coulson nodded.

"Conrad Lloyd," Ward said quietly from where he stood. "He was a SHIELD sleeper agent stationed in China after he graduated from the Academy five years ago."

"Any allegiance to Hydra?" Trip asked, eyes flicking quickly towards Ward.

"We don't know," Coulson said simply. "He made no attempt to communicate with any supervising officer when the Hub fell, nor has he shown any type of relationship to Hydra. He's simply cut all ties."

"So he's gone rogue," Skye demanded. "And he killed Miles, so we can bring him in, right? That has to be enough reason to throw him in a dark cell for the next fifty years."

"Skye," Simmons tried to say, "we don't even know if Lloyd caused the explosion."

"Oh come on!" Skye said, her voice growing louder. "There is _no way_ it was just a coincidence that an ex agent was in the exact same area where the new Director of SHIELD was almost blown up. He killed Miles, and he almost killed us, and if we don't stop him he's just gonna-"

"Skye," May interrupted, and that one word was enough to make Skye breathe before muttering out a small apology to no one in particular.

"We can take out two birds with one stone here," Coulson explained. "We find Lloyd and confront him on the basis of suspected alliances with Hydra. We can find out anything he knows about Miles then."

Skye frowned, clearly unhappy with the passive way everyone seemed to be dealing with the death of her oldest friend. Even though her and Miles hadn't exactly been on the best of terms when they'd last seen each other, but this… Conrad Lloyd… would have hell to answer for when they found him.

A sharp silence had fallen over the room, before Trip finally asked the question playing over in everyone's mind. "So how are we going to find him?"

Coulson gave a small smile. "Apparently being the Director of an international agency has some perks. As of thirty minutes ago Conrad Lloyd became a wanted man in over eighty-six countries. We've managed to neutralize all his bank accounts, passports, any aliases he might have, the whole nine yards. Fitzsimmons, Skye, I want you to look at Lloyd's files, find out if there's anywhere he might go, any safe houses or allies that might be hiding him. That should turn up some leads."

Ward stepped up, looking somewhat apprehensive as if he was apprehensive about his right to voice his opinion. "Coulson, I heard of Lloyd back at the academy. There's a reason he was stationed as a sleeper agent. If he doesn't want to be found, cutting off his ties isn't going to do much."

"Which is why I want you to help. You know how he'll think, what he'll do next. Help Skye narrow down his possible whereabouts, and we might have a better hope."

Ward nodded slowly but he didn't think he would be much help. He knew agents like Conrad Lloyd well; if he didn't want to be found, there was nothing any of them could do to change that. But he couldn't say that in front of Skye, not when this was the only lead they had on Miles' killer.

"Alright," Coulson continued at the lack of general protest, "let's get to work and see who pops up."

_Yes,_ Ward thought, _let's see_. Lloyd's actions were certainly suspicious. But if he'd lasted this long without being picked up by any foreign authorities, Ward doubted how effective their search would be. He didn't know why Coulson was being so adamant in this plan, surely he, having been an agent of SHIELD for decades and the newly appointed Director, would have some better judgment of the ability of sleeper agents? Especially from working with Agent Romanoff. It didn't make sense. And judging by May's slightly skeptical expression, she thought so too.

Which was why he was especially surprised when they had a hit four days later.

He was walking through the plane, something he found himself doing a lot now, basically a habit he'd lately developed during his time in captivity, a combination of lack of exercise and the fierce restlessness that came from running from your past. And even though he was back on the Bus, he was in no way welcome yet. Fitzsimmons still seemed to flinch whenever he walked into a room, and Coulson and May seemed only too happy to ignore his presence as much as possible. And Skye… God, Skye… He actually found that being back on the Bus was more unbearable. At least back in his cell he knew where he'd stood. Now though… Now he had absolutely no idea what she felt towards him.

And so when he wasn't giving what meagre information he knew about Lloyd to Skye, more often than not Ward wondered absently around the plane, testing the limits of the tracking bracelet around his wrist. He found that if he tried getting into any of the team's bunks, the pilot's cockpit, even the damn medical lab (though he supposed that was justified seeing Fitzsimmons practically slept there), a flash of pain so intense that he was practically blinded ran up his arm.

Which was how he'd ended up here, absently trailing the hallways for lack of something better to do- that was until Coulson called him into his office four days after they'd learnt about Conrad Lloyd.

He felt a sharp shard of panic when he heard Coulson calling his name over the speakers. _What did he want? Had Coulson finally realised what a negative effect Ward's presence was having on the team? _

He walked up to Coulson's door with no small amount of unease, and gave it a gentle tap with his fingers before edging the door open. His apprehensiveness surprised him. When did he get so anxious of one-on-one confrontations? He'd been trained as an agent almost his whole life, for God's sake.

Ward took a deep breath when he heard Coulson's muttered reply of "enter", and stepped into the office. He only had a split second to see the man's face sitting behind the desk before his whole goddamned arm was felt like it was on _fire_ and he couldn't think, let alone take another step, and his breathing hitched and-

Suddenly it was gone.

Ward blinked, looking down at the seemingly innocent-looking bracelet around his wrist and back up at the Director who was watching with an expressionless face. Coulson gave a small smile before slipping a small remote – handy that there was a bloody _off switch_\- into his desk drawer.

Ward straightened a little, stretching his fingers in an attempt to get rid of the uncomfortable prickling in his fingers. He raised his eyebrows in an unasked question.

"I was testing SHIELD's new technology," Coulson said, motioning towards the bracelet, he gave a curt nod. "It works."

Ward resisted the urge to scowl at the older man who had proven more than once that he could act like a petulant child, and instead chose to sit in the empty seat across from Coulson's desk.

Coulson didn't waste any time.

"We got a hit on Lloyd," he said simply.

Ward blinked, and for one of the first times in his life was rendered speechless by the sheer _impossibility_ of it. There was no way, _no way_ that Skye or anyone else had managed to find an experienced agent like Conrad Lloyd since he'd last seen her.

_(Two days earlier)_

_Ward sat up quickly when Skye gave a triumphant yell. _

_"Yeah-heh, Mr. Lloyd," she said, doing some sort of crazy victory dance in her chair and pointing down at her laptop. "I found all your damn safe houses. Watcha gonna do now, huh?" _

_"Skye-" Ward tried to say, peering over her shoulder at the list of addresses that the algorithm she'd-somehow, this level of technology went way over his head- made had conjured up. She'd spent the last few days searching through all SHIELD's data and firewalls, desperately trying to find something on the illusive agent. Ward had tried to help, giving her suggestions or ruling out places Lloyd could've disappeared to. But even with the combined effort of Skye's considerable hacking ability and Fitzsimmons's intellect, they'd turned up nothing. Nothing. Until now, he guessed. _

_"You can run but you cannot hide, people. Big Brother is always-" _

_"Skye, shut up for a second and think," he deadpanned. She did, her arms still raised comically in a mock victory lap salute. "Lloyd would never go back to one of his safe houses," Ward continued cautiously. _

_Her arms dropped onto the table. "You don't know that," she insisted with a frown_

_"Yes I do, and you would too, if you'd just stop and think about this for a second. Come on, Skye, SHIELD froze all his contacts and resources, he knows someone's on his tail so why would he go back to the places he know can be traced?". She stayed silent, glaring daggers at him. _

_"You don't think I can find him," she muttered, staring back at her screen with her eyebrows furrowed. _

_"I have every faith in your skills, Skye," Ward said carefully, "I just don't doubt _his_ as well." _

_She muttered something unintelligible under her breath and went back to typing away her laptop. _

_Ward eyed her closely. "You really think Lloyd had something to do with the explosion, don't you?" He didn't say anything about Miles; he couldn't stand the look in her eyes whenever someone mentioned his name. _

_"Coulson thinks he does." _

'Coulson isn't always right,' _Ward felt like saying. But he didn't, because the last thing Ward wanted to do was break this fragile façade they had created, one in which they mentioned nothing about Hydra, or Fitzsimmons, or Garret or just about anything that wasn't what was in front of them at that exact moment. Ward hated it, hated that their relationship had been reduced to nothing but an intricate dance between things they couldn't say. They weren't really talking, but for now… Ward was fine with that. _

That had been two days ago. _Two days. _Last time he'd checked Skye had been no closer to finding anything more than she had been then. "You had other people looking into this," he speculated.

Coulson nodded, tapping a remote so that his laptop showed a grainy security shot of Conrad Lloyd. "SHIELD intel picked this photo up precisely 32 minutes ago at a petrol station. He's been under our noses this entire time."

"I thought you said this case was to be kept just on the Bus," Ward said cautiously.

"The situation changed when we had no new leads after four days. We needed answers."

Ward nodded, but there was still one blaring obvious issue that troubled him. "Why am I here?" he asked. Cold settled into his bones as he realised one potential answer, and he asked in an even voice "do you want me to take him out?" It was a perfectly reasonable question, something that had once seemed so casual to him, but all the same Coulson looked downright _shocked. _

"I am not about to rebuild SHIELD with the blood of a rouge agent, Ward," he spat. Ward didn't answer; honestly, he'd expected nothing different. "You're here," Coulson continued, "because I thought I should tell you privately that you won't be coming with us do apprehend Lloyd."

It took Ward a few moments for what Coulson was saying to sink in, and then he realised why he'd wanted to tell him in private.

Because Ward was _pissed. _

"There is no way _in hell_ I'm letting Skye go out there without me," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Coulson didn't even look fazed, which Ward would've probably found insulting if he hadn't just been dropped a huge bomb and was currently figuring out how to speak again. "I hardly think you're in the position to make demands, Ward," he said calmly. "Agent Trip and May will accompany us, and between them they'll make sure nothing happens to Skye."

Ward didn't bother asking why she was even going on a damn retrieval mission in the first place. It'd take several restraints (or maybe a couple of strong knockout drugs…) to keep Skye from confronting Lloyd herself. But that didn't satisfy him in the slightest as to why he couldn't go with her.

As if reading his thoughts (which probably wouldn't be that hard; every one of his emotion was most likely playing across his face right then), Coulson said "I need the best agents to bring Lloyd in and protect Skye. At this moment that no longer includes you, Ward."

_That no longer includes you, Ward. _

_That no longer includes you. _

_I can't trust you to protect Skye._

Ward battled two opposing emotions: a fierce desire to jump out of his seat and strangle the man in front of him until he took back those damn words, because if there's one thing Ward knows right now it's that he'd rather die a million times over than let anything happen to that girl, but then there was a small voice in the back of his head, one that sounded suspiciously like his psychopath of a brother telling him that _he's weak, he's weak_.

He's weak.

Of course Coulson doesn't want to take him, because why should he be trusted with someone they both hold so closely. Ward's proven a thousand times that he breaks everything he touches. Fitz… Simmons… May… All of them, every single one, broken because he was too weak to fight for them.

Skye. Why should he be the one to protect her when he was the one that had hurt her the worst?

And so he doesn't say another word in protest. He sits there, unmoving, while Coulson tells him to stay on the Bus with Fitzsimmons and monitor any potential threats like a damn watchdog. He speaks no word of argument while Coulson tells the rest of the team the plan. He doesn't respond to the slightly pitying glance Trip throws his way while he straps Kevlar to his chest, or their frankly alarmed looks as Fitzsimmons learn they're stuck on the plane with him as their only protection. He only watches as Skye pulls her dark hair into a messy ponytail and checks the rounds in her gun that no matter how many times she fires will always look so unnatural in her hand because she's not a killer.

She should leave that job for him.

He's still frozen in the same place even after they're long gone, after the standard black SHIELD van has long since disappeared into the horizon, because he's trying to capture the image of the look on her face as she had glanced back at him before climbing into the van. He can't move until he sees her again.

He finds he's just that weak.

* * *

**Does anyone else think Coulson's acting a little weird...? :p **

**Alrighty, thanks for reading, you guy's are truly amazing. Next chapter we'll meet Lloyd and see what's going on ****_there._**

**Oh, and how would you all feel about a series of one shots that show the five times Ward disobeyed Garret? It's kinda been an idea that's followed me around for ages, so let me know what you think. **

**Hopefully talk to ya soon, ma brethren. **

**-F**


	9. Chapter 9

**So... it's been almost a month since I last updated... and for that I'm truly honestly seriously sorry. Thank you so much to everyone for all your comments, and just for your general support and patience with this story. You're all awesome. **

**So previously in my life (please tell me someone watches Miranda) my team came second in our hockey tournament, which was awesome but horrible at the same time... if that makes any sense. Lost 1-0 in the final to Whangarei girls (you're awesome if you're not a kiwi and can say that first go (: ). Exams were horrible, but aren't they always?**

**Quick note, season two comes back on Tuesday (!) and I honestly can't believe it's been four months since I published this story. Crazy. Obviously I had this story in my head a lot earlier than when season two will start, so here's to hoping nothing too drastic will happen that completely goes against what everyone's written. The plot of this story will be significantly different to the show, so please just keep that in mind when you watch the episode or continue reading. **

**Last thing, I've posted the first two (really short) chapters to that series of one-shots I mentioned last chapter, so if you wanna check those out, it'd mean a lot :)**

**Anyways, I'll shut up now. **

_Chapter nine:_

Against popular belief, it was the moments before a fight that Melinda May loved best. Those few brief seconds before all hell breaks loose and you have no idea if you would live to see another day would be the worst nightmare for most people, but she just found it… exhilarating. It was the only time when her mind was clear, when there was nothing except the adrenaline pumping through her veins, lighting her blood on fire, and the thrill of testing her impressive skillset in yet another situation. Sure, afterwards the feeling would be gone and all she would be left with was yet more blood on her hands. But for now all she would focus on is her target. The man on the other side of that door.

They'd driven in silence in the stuffy SHIELD van for about an hour to the location Coulson's source had found, until they'd arrived here, an unpopulated rural area outside the main city. They'd parked the van far enough away to avoid tipping Lloyd off about their presence, and approached the house, guns in hand.

Trip's murmured "well that's one sad shithole" pretty much summed up their first impressions. Amid a clearing of loosely-packed trees and knee-high tufts of shrubbery, the rundown wooden structure- what can only be described as a _shack-_ seemed to fit right in. It was small, and plain, and exposed and pretty much the very thing May would avoid when on the run, and that fact alone has her tightening a grip on her gun.

Trip scouts around the building (does it qualify as a building when it's barely standing?) and returns saying that there's definitely signs of life in the surrounding area, and apart from the door they're about to kick down, there's no other exit, not even a window, for Lloyd to run to.

May glances at Coulson when Trip tells them this, because she's surely not the only one whose senses are telling her that the whole setup is a bit odd. Its rookie lessons 101: if you're being hunted by an international spy agency, don't hide in a place with only one exit route. But Coulson looks as calm as ever, checking the rounds in his ICER with an ease that comes only from years of experience.

She felt a gaze boring into the back of her head, and turned to see Skye's brown eyes staring back at her. They were wide with an emotion that betrayed Skye's apprehensiveness, and for a second May was caught off guard by just how young the other agent looked. For such a new recruit, Skye had seen more action in the field than most other agents did in years. But unlike anyone else May had met within SHIELD, Skye had- somehow, amid the chaos that was their lives- retained some semblance of innocence, something which continually astounded the older agent. She knew there weren't many people in their profession that could claim the same thing.

And it's for that reason alone that that May gives a reassuring nod, because if there's one thing she's certain of in this messed up situation it's that she'll fight to the death to keep that innocence alive. Skye deserves that much. It's why she has another gun tucked into her belt, one not even Coulson knows she's carrying. Unlike the others, it's not loaded with harmless ICER bullets. Something was telling her she might be needing it.

"Everyone's in position," Coulson mutters into his comm-unit. "Is everything good your end?"

Simmons' voice is clear in May's ear. "Apart from Ward's continual glare, we're all set."

"Good," Coulson replies, "stand by for now." He turns to May and Trip and gives them a nod. "Let's get our man."

Adrenaline floods May's blood, spiking her heart rate and sending her every sense into overdrive. She takes deep breaths, all the while feeling energy thrum through her body, taking away everything except the feel of the gun in her hand and the thrill of the oncoming fight. She and Trip advanced slowly towards the building, guns aimed at the door, ready for anything. From somewhere behind her, May could hear the sounds of Skye and Coulson following in their footsteps, but kept her eyes fixed on the door.

She took another deep breath in, kicked the door inwards with so much force it smashed off its rusty old hinges, before bursting into the shack.

She spotted Lloyd immediately, sitting cross-legged on the ground, twirling a knife between his fingers. She levelled her gun at his head, and beside her Trip did the same. "_Don't move_," May said carefully.

Lloyd didn't react at all, just continued to stare at them like they were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. The metal from his knife caught the meagre light.

Having been given the all clear from Trip, Coulson and Skye entered next. "Agent Lloyd," Coulson stated, looking every like the Director he was. "We have reasons to suspect you were involved in an explosion of an apartment in the city five days ago, which resulted in a civilian casualty, as well as having questionable ties to Hydra."

Silence was his only answer.

"Lloyd," Coulson said firmly. "Do you understand what you are facing?"

Lloyd's gaze locked onto Coulson's, and he let out a light laugh. "Shhh, Agent Coulson, I'm trying to hear the voices."

May froze. Did an agent, one that had once been praised for his quick thinking and intellect, just admit to hearing _voices_? This mission was taking a drastically shocking turn.

Coulson was relentless. "Trust me, Lloyd, the only voices here is mine, and it's only going to get louder if you don't start answering our questions."

The other agent's eyes dropped back to the knife in his hands, and he fingered the blade lightly. "Can't you see them, Agent Coulson? They're getting closer. Can you feel them creeping closer?" Another manic giggle left his mouth.

May felt her heart jump. Lloyd was mad. He was completely, undeniably mad. She recognized the half-crazed look in his eyes; you didn't work for an organization like SHIELD for as long as she had without being exposed to some form of PTSD. Every victim she'd seen had eyes like the man in front of them; ones that said they'd seen the end of the world

The knife danced in his fingertips.

No one else moved, all standing in shock at his last words an all that they implied. May watched carefully as Lloyd gripped the blade and used the tip to prick his thumb until a drop of blood ran down the side. He stared at it in wonder. "The past is written in blood… don't you think?" he said, barely audible.

May jerked as if stung. The words were familiar. _The past is written in blood after all_. That had been written on the wall in Miles' apartment. From behind her she heard a gasp. Skye lunged forward, anger etched onto her features, but Trip caught at her shoulder and pulled her back. "Did you kill Miles?" she demanded, pushing against Trip's restraining hand. "Tell me, you _bastard_, tell me."

Lloyd looked slightly taken aback at Skye's words. He stood up shakily.

"_Don't move_," May hissed at him again. He didn't hear her, or if he did, he paid her little heed. Lloyd's attention was solely focused on Skye now.

"You don't understand," he said earnestly, "we are on the brink of something incredible. Nothing like this has ever happened in human history, and you and me," he smiled widely again, "we get a frontline seat. The blood of one man is a small price to pay for that, don't you think?"

Skye took an involuntary step backwards, shock plastered all over her face. May couldn't blame her; the twisted ideas of the man in front of them filled May with a queasy fear. But the Cavalry was nothing if not a master of fear, so instead she focused on the small details. Lloyd had just admitted to being involved in Miles' death; that was all she needed to know.

She advanced on him slowly, cautiously, fully aware of the knife he was tossing recklessly from hand to hand. She had a clear shot, but Skye was still too close for her liking. "Skye," she said quietly, never once taking her finger off the trigger of her gun, "get behind me." But the girl had frozen.

"Skye!" Trip called out.

Lloyd looked up sharply. "Skye…" he said slowly, as if testing how the name felt off his tongue. "It's a beautiful name." He giggled again, and May swore she would never get that sound out of her head.

Suddenly, Lloyd's face dropped, and his eyes took on an intense anger. "He said your name was Skye."

The next few moments would haunt May for years to come.

Lloyd moved with lightening reflexes; for all his crazy mannerisms he was still an agent of SHIELD, or had been trained like one. The second May saw his arm move she'd pulled the trigger, distantly hearing Coulson yell "May, no!" from behind her. But no words could stop a bullet. It hit Lloyd in the centre of his forehead, and his head snapped back violently, twisting his body till he fell backwards onto his stomach. He made no further sound.

But she hadn't been fast enough.

A slight hitch in a breathing pattern had May turning back, and there was Skye- pale, eyes wide with shock. She also had Lloyd's knife sticking out of her shoulder, about two centimetres to the right of the edge of the Kevlar vest she wore.

"_Shit_," Trip shouted, grabbing Skye by her good shoulder when she stumbled slightly. "Shit, Skye, look at me, _look at me_."

May turned her back on the Lloyd's back and ran to support Skye's other side. She got her first real look at the wound: the knife was lodged high in the girl's left shoulder, and blood was pouring down her arm in steady rivers of red. The wound wasn't fatal, but shock had already set in and Skye's breathing was erratic.

May fought down panic; Skye would be fine if they could get her back to the Bus where Simmons could treat her. "Skye," she said firmly, "focus on me." She slapped the young agent's face lightly, until she looked up at her with eyes that screamed pain. "You're going to be fine, but you have to breathe."

Skye gasped as Trip put pressure on her shoulder, carefully avoiding the knife he dared not remove. "I'm sorry," she whispered breathlessly. She gripped May's arm tight enough to leave bruises. "Should've... listened to you… it was stupid."

'_Yes, it was'_ May wanted to say, but she held it back, instead busying herself with finding something, _anything_, to use as a makeshift bandage. Finally she stripped out of her protective gear and whipped off her shirt, leaving the white shirt she had on underneath. "Here," she said, pressing it into Skye's free hand, "press this onto your shoulder for now. Trip, take her back to the Bus and alert Simmons on the way."

Trip nodded and, with a supporting arm around Skye's waist, helped her towards the door.

Silence fell once more in the room. Coulson had moved across the room, and was now looking down at Lloyd's motionless body with a blank expression on his face. She said his name carefully.

The Director looked up at her and said quietly "we needed him, May,"

She blinked- what? Lloyd had thrown a knife at Skye. For her, that justified everything. "You didn't think I should've done it?" she asked.

"I think we both know you could've used an ICER. You didn't need to murder him, May."

May rocked back on her heels. _Murder_. Is that what he saw this as? Cold-blooded murder? She wasn't a good person; May had accepted that a long time ago. She'd killed more people than she could count, and the things she'd done in the name of justice haunted her every day. But Lloyd had been different. He'd posed a threat, and in the face of it May had acted out of instinct. She'd been protecting her family, did Coulson really not see that?

"Now we just have another body to deal with," he muttered, and without looked at her once he walked out the door, leaving May to wonder when the man she'd known for so many years had become such a stranger.

It only occurred to her later that not once had Coulson checked to see how Skye was.

* * *

Ward was by the van the second it pulled into the cargo hold. He slammed open the back door and swallowed heavily. When Trip had called in about forty minutes earlier saying that the target had been neutralized and Skye had been hurt, it had taken all of Ward's control not to smash his fist into the wall. Or maybe his head. Then he wouldn't have had to deal with the feeling that he could barely _breathe_. The only thing holding him back was Fitzsimmons' downright terrified glances his way, as if that was exactly the thing they'd expected him to do.

He'd expected the worst, but somehow seeing it for himself was so much worse.

Ward reached into the car and gently eased Skye out of her seat and into his arms. Her head rolled limply against his neck, much too cold and clammy for his liking. "Skye," he breathed into her hair. Knowing that she was back in his arms, even if it was under these circumstances, bought a sense of relief so strong he was almost crying. He yelled for Fitzsimmons, and started making his way towards the lab, carefully making sure he didn't jostle her small body.

Trip followed them. "She took a knife to the shoulder," he called out, "lost at least a pint."

'_Only a pint_?' Ward thought. To him, it seemed the shirt tied around her shoulder was saturated in blood.

"I can walk, Ward," he heard her mutter into his shoulder. He didn't even bother to answer.

The pain hits him as soon as he walks into the lab. A groan pushed past his lip, and he staggered a bit to the left as fire raced up his arm.

Skye stared up at him, her eyes wide. "Grant- the bracelet! You can't-"she said, squirming slightly in his arms.

"I don't care," he hissed, forcing himself to breathe normally and pulling Skye's body closer to him despite the needles that he felt digging into his skin. He'd just got her back; there was no way he was letting her go again. Besides, any pain was worth hearing her say his name again.

Every step towards the med bench in the centre of the room felt like a mile. Each step he thought his leg would collapse from underneath them. Finally Simmons was there, pulling out gauze and needles and blood for a transfusion. Ward couldn't think. He could barely feel anything anymore. He fell to his knees beside the bench and ran his hands through Skye's silky hair.

She turned her head to watch him, and despite the paleness of her face and blood-stained clothes, she's still the most beautiful thing Ward had ever seen. "You're an idiot," she whispered softly.

He thinks he smiles. He knows that she's only allowing this contact between them because she doesn't have the energy to make him stop, but for the first time in a while he doesn't care. And then Trip's there, lifting him to his feet and supporting him out of the room, telling him "come on, Jemma's got her now. You'll only be in the way." The only reason Ward didn't fight him is because despite his mind screaming differently, he knew Trip was right.

In his next moment of clarity, Ward found himself sitting in one of the chairs in the lounge, nursing a glass of scotch and trying to remember when the last time he'd had alcohol was. He'd almost forgotten the way it completely numbs the senses. He definitely needed that right now.

A knife to the shoulder. She'd been god damned stabbed, and Ward didn't know who he's angrier at: Coulson for not letting him be there to stop it, or Lloyd for throwing it in the first place. Ward knew deep inside his mind that if May and Trip couldn't do anything to stop it, there would've been little that he could've done. But all the same, his mind was screaming that he should've been there to protect her.

At the very least, he could've done a lot more to Lloyd than just a bullet to the head.

Before his thoughts take an even darker turn, Trip returned, looking more tired than Ward's ever seen him. "She's asking for you, man," he said. At Ward's silent question, he added "you can go in. Fitz reprogramed the bracelet." Ward gets up quickly, and made his way to the door.

"Hey, Ward," Trip called out. Ward looked back. "You want that girl back; don't screw this up, okay?"

* * *

**Really sorry about where that ended, but its about 2.30 in the morning here and I just really wanted to post this chapter. I promise I'll update as soon as possible. **

**How would you guys feel about a cute fluffy chapter next? I think its needed, personally...**

**Please leave a review, and enjoy tuesday's episode! I'll probably have to find it online considering it'll take, meh, five years? Give or take? till it get's to NZ... **

**-F**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm just going to start off by saying that the start of season 2 was everything I could've hoped for (huzzah for TVNZ for actually getting the new season on Sundays! I take back everything I said about its incompetence). Skye's a badass, and what is it about Fitzsimmons that practically has me in tears every single time?! Honestly, my mum was almost crying and that, my friends, is quite an achievement. **

**Thank you all so much for your reviews :) It makes writing this story that much easier knowing that you guys are still reading. My biggest fear is that I'm going to completely trash this story, so anything you as readers say is incredible. **

**I'll be honest, this chapter was extremely hard to write. I swear, it started off as cheesy fluff, but somewhere-out of nowhere!- it... well... I won't ruin anything. **

_Chapter ten_

The lab was as silent as a grave when Ward walked in. Well, that wasn't exactly true. There was all the usual whirring's and ticking of the many machines dotted across the room, and the distant roar of the Bus's engines in the background that Ward had long since gotten used to. But a pervading negative mood had settled over the Bus since the unsuccessful mission in retrieving Conrad Lloyd. Skye's injury had done little to improve the morale.

Despite himself, Ward hesitated in the doorway, as if imagining the pain that he'd experienced earlier that day just by taking another step forward into the room. Fitzsimmons looked up at him from the corner, and for the first time since he'd returned to the plane, fear wasn't the instant reaction on their faces

Simmons smiled nervously, unsure of how to act in this situation. Ward wasn't either, to be honest. "She was asking for you," the scientist said quietly. "Wouldn't let me give her anything to help her sleep until she'd seen you." She gave an affectionate huff, and Ward had to hide a smile.

"I don't need to sleep!" came an indignant voice from the med bench, the exhaustion evident in her voice a harsh contradiction. "What I need is to get out of this sad excuse for a bed and have a _shower_."

Simmons turned to Skye with an irritated look on her face. "Considering you had a knife in your shoulder an hour ago and now have over twenty stitches, you are going to lie there until I tell you differently."

Skye dropped her head back down onto the bed and closed her eyes. "I'd forgotten how strict you were," she mumbled.

"And I'd forgotten what a terribly stubborn patient you were."

Ward walked up to the bench, feeling more nervous than he'd ever felt around Skye. He had no idea how she would act, no idea what she would say. Skye had never been someone he could easily read and she'd used that to her advantage numerous times.

"Hey," she said softly as he fell into the fold-out chair by the bed.

Ward swallowed the sudden lump in his throat when her slightly-glazed eyes focused on his. "Hey," he croaked out. His eyes roamed the mass of bandages that covered her shoulder.

She followed his gaze and chuckled weakly. "Getting stabbed isn't too fun, I've decided."

He let out a light laugh. "I know. Mission in Paris three years ago; took one to the leg. Still got the scar."

Skye frowned slightly. "Add that to the list of things I don't know about you." Her eyes flickered shut. "I've always wanted to go to France. Not for some mission where we have to hightail it out of there after a day, but where we can just… relax."

"You'll be able to do that one day," he said simply. She only hummed in response, her eyes still pressed shut. "You're tired," he continued, "I'll let you sleep."

He got up to leave, but froze when her hand gripped his wrist and her eyes flew open again. "No, wait," she said insistently. "I- I was stupid. With Lloyd. He just mentioned Miles and how his death was part of this huge plot and I just… I couldn't… I should've _moved_."

"Hey, it doesn't matter," Ward said. He was still standing awkwardly by her side, bound in place by her death grip around his wrist, but he didn't fight it. And she didn't pull away either. "You wanted to know what happened to Miles. None of us could've known that Lloyd would be like that." Ward swallowed, his gaze shifting down to their locked hands. "But I should've been there," he finished simply.

Skye raised an eyebrow. "Why? So you could be the one lying here? And what would that have achieved? I know you're trying to get back in everyone's good books, Ward, but there's other ways of doing it than jumping in front of a knife. Besides," she shrugged, then visibly winced when the movement jarred her shoulder. "I should've been watching, I had this coming."

Ward sat back down heavily in the chair and inched it closer to her side. Gingerly, giving her plenty of time to stop him, he reached out and brushed the hair off her pale forehead with his thumb. She tensed under his touch, but didn't make any attempt to move, and that alone sent a rush of warmth through his body. "Don't say that," he said softly, fully aware that Fitzsimmons were only a few feet away and, despite their outward appearances, were probably listening intently. "I spent my whole life telling myself that. Every person that I killed or hurt, for SHIELD and for Garret, I'd say they deserved it, as if that was some excuse for what I'd done."

Skye's eyes were wide, and he could practically feel the emotion coming off her, but she said nothing. Probably because this was one of the few times he was actually speaking his mind.

"Maybe some of them did deserve it," Ward continued, "but in the end no one should have their fate determined for them." He shook his head. "What gives someone the right to judge when another should die?"

"Ward-" Skye tried to say.

"I have done so many bad things in my life, Skye, but I always justified them by saying that it was because of my brother, or Garret, or SHIELD. But all that's gone now, and I don't know who I am without it. I don't know who I am without orders. Everything about me was determined by others." Ward stopped, and looked Skye dead in the eyes. "Everything except you," he whispered.

Her brown eyes glistened in the bright light of the lab.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm never going to forgive myself for the things I did to you, to you all," Ward looked up at Fitzsimmons and laughed once, breathlessly, at how blatantly obvious it was that they were listening, "so why should you forgive me?" He looked back down at the girl in front of him, the girl that was the embodiment of every hope he had left in the world. "All I'm saying… is that you are the one thing that I can truly say was never part of some huge scheme, and if you'll let me, I'll fight for that for the rest of my miserably underserved life."

For a long time, it seemed Skye wouldn't respond. She just stared up at him like it was the first time she was really seeing him. If it wasn't for the reassuringly steady heartbeat from the monitor beside her, Ward was sure she could pass as a statue.

Finally, she said "I've spent the last three months trying to convince myself that something about you was real," each word was careful, like she was testing how it sounded on her tongue. "Because I want to believe I'm not stupid enough to fall in love with a killer."

Ward flinched internally, because even though he'll readily admit to being a murderer hearing her reduce his character to nothing else hurts more than should be possible.

"The man that we knew was a lie." Skye shook her head. "But there are some things that I refuse to believe aren't real."

Ward opened his mouth to argue what he always says; that his feelings for her were real, no matter what happened, but Skye shushed him again with an impatient wave of her good hand.

"No, I'm sorry, just… just let me get this out." She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for what she was about to say. "I fell in love with the guy that taught me how to get out of a chokehold, who told me about his brothers and let me win at Battleship for hours on end the last time Simmons confined me to a bed. I_ know_ that that person is in there somewhere, but I think you need to believe that too." A tear finally fell from Skye's eyes, but neither of them acknowledged it. "I'm not going to love a ghost for the rest of my life."

Silence fell after Skye's final words, and Ward found himself struggling to push past the onrushing mass of confusion in his head. It feels like his brain's been replaced by a soaking wet sponge, because honestly, he's still wrapping his head around how she could possibly still have faith in him after everything she'd been through

Skye, he realised, had given him something he didn't even realise he desperately needed: the hope that someone still believed there was something more to him than just a mindless soldier.

Tears were streaming down her face now and her breathing was ragged from her failing attempts to contain her sobs. And all Ward wants to do is kiss her tears away and run his fingers through her hair until she falls asleep to a world much less cruel than the one that endured.

But he didn't.

Because- as always- she was right. Never in an infinite number of years would he deserve Skye, much less the broken shell of a man he was now. He loved Skye; that much he held on to like a burning beacon of hope. But he needed to sort out other things before he could fully embrace that.

So instead he went for the second best thing; running a finger down her cheek before pressing a soft kiss against her forehead, ignoring the way it felt like his heart was tearing in two for being so close to her, and yet unable to do anything more. "I'm trying," he breathed.

He allowed her fingers to slowly slip from his own, and turned towards the two frozen scientists. "Make sure she sleeps," he said quietly in a voice fighting to stay even. "Please."

He didn't wait for an answer, trusting that Fitzsimmons would help Skye. He left the lab without a backward glance, feeling as though he could sleep for the next fifty years. The stress of the last few hours caught up with him, and all Ward wanted was to collapse on his bed and lose himself in whatever dream his brain conjured up.

But first he had a bone to pick with the Director.

* * *

May was numb.

She was the master of blocking out her emotions, so she definitely wasn't worrying about Skye, or replaying Lloyd's final moments over and over. She definitely wasn't thinking about the verbal beating she'd just received from Coulson.

For the last hour she'd stood impassively while the new Director had raved about how Lloyd had been their only lead, and how it went against everything he was trying to rebuild by killing an agent without so much as a second chance. He threatened that her licence as agent could be revoked if anyone outside SHIELD learnt of her actions, as if that would provoke some emotion from her.

May didn't say anything at all.

Eventually she was dismissed, with a look that told her just how angry Coulson really was with her. She ignored that too; she had much bigger things to worry about.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, it took May much longer than she'd like to register that Ward was striding towards the door she'd just exited from. There was a wild look in his eyes that for a second had her panicking- nothing could've happened to Skye, could it?

May stopped him quickly with a hand against his chest.

Ward gritted his teeth and looked down at the older agent with a raw anger in his eyes. "I need to talk to Coulson," he hissed.

"Not the time," May said simply.

"Like hell! I should've been there with Skye. She wouldn't've been hurt if I'd been there."

"I know." Ward froze, and May resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his surprise. "You'd die for her; it's one of the reasons we bought you back in the first place."

His anger was back in an instant. "So why didn't you convince Coulson to bring me on that mission?" Ward demanded, gesturing widely towards Coulson's door.

"He wouldn't listen to me." It was the simple truth, and it was the exact thing that concerned May the most. "So much could've gone wrong on that mission, but he took the risk with our lives anyway. The Coulson I knew wouldn't' have."

Ward stared down at her. The anger seemed to deflate right out of him and he sagged where he stood. "What are you saying?"

She examined him closely. Despite their platonic relationship months before, May had never truly trusted Ward, and she knew the feelings were mutual. It was an unfortunate effect from their job that kept her continually suspicious of others. There were exceptions; Skye, Fitzsimmons…the ones too innocent for this line of work. But there was something about the man in front of her that screamed a blatant need to be accepted again. Would a man really lie if he had nothing to lose but everything to gain?

"I want you to tell me everything you know about Raina and GH-325," she said finally.

* * *

**Raina again, huh? She's going to be interesting... **

**Well that wasn't fun. I've decided I like writing action a lot better, this just felt way too rushed and... bleh. I don't know, it started off as fluff, but this just seemed a bit more realistic. **

**So, stick with me for the next few chapters, because- trust me- _stuffs about to go down. _**

**So, please please leave a review telling me what you think of my terrible attempt at romance. **

**Thanks so much guys, **

**-F**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey, hooligans. Sorry bout the bit of a wait, my extremely helpful laptop decided to crash last week, so it was at some fancy, specialist techy place getting repaired. **

**Thank you to everyone for the reviews for the last chapter! It was awesome to see your thoughts to my terrible attempt at fluff. This chapter (and the one next) will be a lot more _me_. Mwah ha ha. And thanks again to anyone and everyone that's favorited or followed this story. You guys are amazing! **

**Bit of a note, this chapter happens a few days after the events of the last. I decided not to add the actual conversation between May and Ward, because I think it's pretty self-explanatory how that would go...**

**Anyways, hope you enjoy :) **

_Chapter eleven_

Three days later saw a depressing state of routine settle over the Bus. Skye, long-since resigned to the fact that her shoulder would prevent her from practicing for weeks at least, gravitated through different areas of the plane depending on who she felt like bugging at that time. She made sure to stay far away from the back of the Bus, where she knew Ward milled around when he wasn't lying on the bed in the interrogation room. Skye hadn't seen him since… well, she didn't really know what had happened that day in the lab. She could still feel the gentle brush of his fingers across her cheek as he'd said goodbye, but there had been a fire in his eyes that hadn't been there before; a sort of fierce determination that spoke volumes. Deep inside her, Skye couldn't help but hope that it was a sign of belief, that there was a chance the man she'd known was coming back.

She'd long since exhausted the other option.

With the absence of any form of exercise, Skye found herself staying up to the early hours of the morning, working away at her laptop in a desperate attempt to find something, _anything_, on Conrad Lloyd. So far she'd had nothing but mission overviews and recruitment details- both of which praised his quick-thinking and weapons precision. '_Funny that_,' she'd thought as she'd read. She'd have her arm in a sling for at least two weeks because of his "weapons precision."

Frustrated at the lack of apparent information, Skye slumped back in her chair and swore loudly, rubbing blearily at her eyes with her good hand. She's spent the last two hours going through his medical reports and found nothing except the usual injuries one would expect from an agent who'd been in the business for more than ten years. Nothing which would suggest possible mental instability. "_He said your name was Skye_," Lloyd had said. No one had mentioned it, although Skye had to admit she's seen little of Coulson or May for the last three days. The Director had been holed up in his office for most of the time, only venturing out when it came to meals or- of course- his nightly excursions to the wall with the alien symbols carved into it. May just seemed… distracted, like the weight she usually carried on her back had suddenly doubled and she was still figuring out how to deal with it.

Skye opened one eye blearily when she heard footsteps approaching. Trip grinned, looking down at her as he leaned against the doorframe. "What's up, sunshine?" he said lightly. "Having a hard morning, I see."

"You know this is all your fault."

Trip fought to hide a smile. "Oh yeah? How's that?"

She waved an accusing finger in his direction. "If you hadn't called Simmons, she wouldn't've freaked out and overreacted and insisted I wear this stupid sling, and I might actually be able to get some work done. You can't do _anything_ with one hand."

Trip kept a perfectly straight face. "I think she might've noticed a stab wound in your shoulder. She's good like that. Anyway, what would you have done? Duct-tape your shoulder back together?"

Skye pulled a face. "That's just gross. And who said you could bring logic into this?" she protested.

"Well… then I apologize- for making Simmons overreact and for making a clear argument about it."

She grumbled, clearly still not satisfied with the result.

The smile on Trip's face fell, and he sat down heavily beside Skye. "I am sorry, Skye," he said in a soft voice. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"Oh no no no," she exclaimed. "Nuh uh. Don't try to do the whole 'macho spy' thing and blame everything on yourself. There was nothing you, or Ward could've done, alright? This was on me. Nope, don't start," she spoke over Trip's protests. "If you want to help, get your fine ass in the kitchen and help me with lunch for everyone."

Trip smiled and stood back up, shaking his head in disbelief at the girl in front of him. "You got it," he said warmly.

"Thanks, Trip," she said quietly to his retreating back.

Skye's good mood deflated the second she was alone. She stared dejectedly at her laptop screen. Her search for answers was getting nowhere, and she was just getting all-round frustrated at everything that was going on in her life; Ward, Coulson, Miles, her parents. It was like she had a thousand things to think about, but at the same time couldn't do anything for fear her life would crumble around her.

Hesitantly, hating herself for being so weak, Skye clicked on the program that allowed her to hijack the security cameras throughout the plane. Fitzsimmons were in the lab, dressed in full protective gear and burning God knows what over a bright blue flame. Trip was, unsurprisingly, busy in the kitchen raiding the fridge. It took her a few seconds to find May, the frozen statue that she was. But they weren't who she was looking for.

Ward.

He was in his cell, lying on the bed. From the angle of the camera Skye couldn't tell if he was awake or not, but his figure was completely motionless except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She'd been actively avoiding him for three days, but her eyes were still drinking in the sight of him, despite her mind screaming that she was weak.

She shook her head and quickly switched cameras before she did something _really_ stupid.

There was still one person she hadn't spotted yet, and Skye frowned, sure she'd switched through every room at least once- even the camera she'd painfully installed herself in the room where he spent most nights carving symbols into the glass. After the initial incident with the photo of her sleeping in her bunk, Coulson had taken out all the cameras in the bedrooms to retain some semblance of privacy in the otherwise crowed plane, so there was always the possibility that Coulson was in his, but Skye had practically been glued to this couch for hours; surely she'd have known if Coulson had passed?

She could feel her panic growing when she still couldn't spot their Director, and scenarios of Coulson being kidnapped or hurt or murdered ran continuously through her head. _Where the hell could you possibly be?_ She'd checked everywh-

Her screen went black.

She froze.

Her first frantic thoughts were of a hard-drive malfunction (in which case the entire plane would soon be veeery much aware of what she thought about _that_), but those were soon erased when a single line of text drawled itself across the top of the screen, as if some invisible ghost was tapping away at her keyboard.

_Tit for tat, I see. _

Skye's mind was a whirlwind of panic. There was no way someone would be able to hack her laptop; she'd programmed it herself. Not to mention the power to completely overrun the system remotely would require technology so advanced the whole thing seemed impossible.

Hesitantly, as if the device lying on her lap was about to explode, Skye reached out and typed her own sentence in reply: _Who are you?_

The cursor blinked. Skye found herself holding her breath.

_I'm the one who you've been looking for your whole life. _

Skye's heart hitched, and she sat staring at the words and all that they inferred. Shock had rendered her into a statue. When several seconds had passed, and she hadn't made one movement, not even breathing, another line appeared below the last.

_Twenty-four years is much too long, my dear. It's time we met again. Face to face. _

She didn't register much after that; didn't acknowledge whatever address was proposed underneath. Her eyesight was too bright and she couldn't _breathe_, let alone think, because her father was behind everything: Miles' death, the explosion…

She could feel panic clawing at her lungs, turning her vision into a hazy blur, and it was as if from a distance that she heard her own voice, desperately screaming for Coulson.

* * *

"Well at least we know where you get your theatricality from," Trip said to Skye.

The glares he received from the rest of the team would've put Natasha Romanoff to shame; Ward himself found it hard to see how anything was amusing in this situation. Skye's father, her god damn father, was the one who'd been, in his eyes, stalking her for the past few weeks. Ward supposed he should feel slightly grateful, as it was only the perceived threat of the photo that had spurred Coulson into bringing him back onto the Bus, but this was also the same who'd supposedly slaughtered an entire village trying to find his daughter. Ward would die- prepared to take down almost anyone with him- before he let something happen to Skye.

The girl in question was sitting on the couch, staring with an unreadable expression at the laptop they'd isolated in the middle of the coffee table like evidence from a murder scene. Her body language screamed shock and disbelief, but if Ward still knew her at all, and he hoped he did, she was probably already thinking of ways to get the answers she always desperately sought.

He studied her face intently. Ward had spent the last three days thinking of what to say when he saw her again, but after hours had been unable to think of anything even remotely acceptable to say. But nothing could have prepared him for this.

"Is this possible, Skye," he asked quietly. "Or is someone playing us?" _Playing you_.

She didn't even look up. "It shouldn't be. I built that system from scratch myself. There are firewalls and millions of lines of code to get through; it's a digital maze. It'd be impossible for anyone," she bit her lip and looked up with shining eyes at Coulson. "Unless that anyone knows how I think too."

Coulson stepped forward, a grim look on his face. "Until we've determined whether this man is a threat or not, we need to treat him as such. We know nothing about him, except that he's prepared to use lethal force to get what he wants."

No one interrupted. There was no need to ask what it was he wanted. The answer was slowly dawning in everyone's minds with a terrible clarity.

The truth had been written in blood twenty-four years ago, after all.

"We have no way of knowing what would await Skye if she met with him, but I think we can all agree it wouldn't be anything good." Coulson gestured to the location written on Skye's screen, one which was startlingly close to their current location; only a few hours away at the most. "This place could be the biggest trap in history. Which is why we're going to go scout it out. On our terms. Not his."

Fitz's face was horrified. "You _just_ said it might be a trap, and yet we're still going to walk into it?"

"We're not walking into anything unprepared. SHIELD teams are already on the lookout of any unusual activity in the area. Skye, Fitzsimmons, Trip, I want you to stay on the plane where it'll be safe. Put the Bus on lockdown; no one gets in, and no one gets out." This was followed by a pointed look in Skye's direction.

Ward could see the sense in that. Coulson didn't want to risk Skye's curiosity getting the better of her, which mixed with her injured shoulder and general unpredictability of whatever awaited them, could be disastrous.

But that still left one blaringly obvious problem, one May had figured out too, if her frown was anything to go by.

"No," Ward stated simply.

Coulson's jaw clenched. "You're hardly in a position to argue, Ward. You and May will accompany me to scout out the location."

"No," Ward repeated again. "You may be the new Director of SHIELD, but I'm not an agent. I'm not yours to order around anymore, and there's no way in hell I'm leaving her side again."

The room was frozen in shock, watching the standoff between the Director of SHIELD and a traitor. Ward didn't dare break Coulson's eye contact, but he desperately wanted to look at Skye's face, just to see what her reaction was.

It was a hollow threat, and they all knew it. The only reason Ward was back on the Bus in the first place was because Coulson wanted it. There was nothing stopping him from saying one word and Ward would be rotting in a damp cell somewhere again.

But Coulson didn't.

His eyes hardened and his frown increased, showing how he truly disliked the sudden change in his plans. But he nodded all the same, and said in a stiff voice "but don't test me, Ward."

Coulson was pissed at him, but when wasn't he? Ward didn't mind, and judging from the tiniest of smiles on Skye's face, one which she hid by looking down so her hair fell like a curtain across her face, she didn't either.

And that's all that really mattered.

* * *

That evening, after around four hours of flying in which they'd landed in some remote area of Thailand and seen off Coulson and May in a flurry of dust and grit, Ward was almost regretting his decision. Almost.

He'd forgotten how much he hated being left behind, with no idea what was going on outside the plane. The lockdown of the Bus ensured that nothing, not even wifi (much to Skye's distress) or phone reception, could reach them, so they had absolutely no clue what May and Coulson had discovered. Ward was a take-action sort of guy, or had been. To be sitting blind… it was almost unbearable.

The only thing that kept him firmly anchored on the couch in the living room was the girl sitting a few feet to his right. Skye, obviously frustrated at having been equally left behind, had made a sort of nest of blankets and cushions and curled up, watching a movie. She hadn't said a word when Ward had gently eased into the chair opposite hers, which he took to mean she was indifferent either way, and they hadn't spoken once.

Fitzsimmons and Trip were probably in the lab, trying to waste away time making things explode. Probably a better alternative than brooding about everything that had happened that day.

He subtly glanced at Skye from the corner of his eye, noting her frown and stiff posture that he doubted had little to do with whatever rubbish she was watching. Was she angry at him? Or just at not knowing about how Coulson or May were doing? Whatever it was, she obviously didn't wan-

He sat up suddenly.

Skye's head snapped up. "What?" she questioned seriously, catching onto his mood.

"Did you hear that?" he asked slowly, straining his ears to the murmur of raised voices he swore he'd heard moments before.

Skye frowned. "It was probably just one of the science twins setting Trip on fire," she tried to brush off. After all, nothing could get through the Bus on lockdown, right?

Ward would've agreed, simply passed it off as uneasiness, if it wasn't for the shattering scream that broke out the second she had finished talking.

They stared at each other in horror, because there as only one other person that could make a sound like that, and it meant something far more sinister than a fire had occurred.

Simmons.

They were both on their feet sprinting to the back of the Bus without another thought. Ward was fully expecting the worst, but there was something about the scene in front of him when they reached the lab that would be joining his nightmares for years to come.

Maybe it was the sight of Fitz lying unconscious on the floor, blood streaming from a nasty wound on his forehead, or of Simmons as she stood sobbing, desperately calling out his name.

Maybe it was seeing Trip pointing a gun, not an ICER, directly towards Jemma's head, effectively stopping her from running to check on her best friend with the threat of yet more blood. Trip's eyes were glazed, unseeing, _unnatural_.

Or maybe it was just the fact that there was another person there, sitting calmly by one of the med-benches. Someone that made Ward instantly push Skye behind him, just so there was something between her and the man. Because, God, it was _him_.

"Well," Skye's father said calmly, spreading his hands out in a gesture that screamed '_so?_'. "I've waited twenty-four years for this day, my dear Skye. Forgive me if I'm a little dramatic."

* * *

**Cringed at that cliffhanger... sorry guys... but not really, cos the next chapters gonna be fuuuun. **

**Loved writing a sort of protective Ward, because for me that's one thing that doesn't really make sense in season 2. If Ward knows about Skye's parents decimating a village, why is he offering to take Skye to them? That whole "you can be monsters together" thing seems a bit too uncharacteristically selfish to be the reason... **

**For Skye's father, I've still got in mind Kyle MacLachlan, because for me he's just going to nail a whole creepy dad persona. **

**Anyways, you'd all be amazing(er) if you reviewed :)**

**-F **


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you all for the awesome reviews! And to everyone that's followed or favourited this story, it really makes it so much more fun (and easier) to write! Especially when you put up with cliffhangers like that last one :p **

**This chapter might be a bit confusing, but just remember that every line-break is a change in point of view, but not necessarily at the same time... if that makes any sense. **

**I'll shut up now. Hope you enjoy! **

_Chapter twelve_

The horrible thing was that there was actually a resemblance between them.

There was something to the stubborn set of her father's jaw or the way he held himself, as if daring anyone to contradict him, that reminded Ward so much of the girl he'd come to love. Even their hair had the same flyaway curls. But as he watched the man stand up from the chair and straighten his suit with the kind of lethal grace Ward usually attributed to deadly predators, the specialist found himself seeing all the things different about them too. Although their eyes were a similar shade of brown, there was a cold analysing look to Skye's father's which Ward hoped with his entire body would never be repeated in her own. His body was built small, like his daughters, but every movement was frighteningly deliberate, as if calculated to the last detail.

And Ward was terrified.

He had gripped Skye's wrist tightly to keep her close, and could feel her heartbeat drumming an erratic beat against his fingers. He wanted to run and check on Fitz, because he'd landed face down and Ward couldn't tell if the young scientist was still breathing. He wanted to gather Simmons into his arms, regardless of what had happened in the past, because she looked like she was about to collapse if she cried any harder. But Ward could do nothing, for the same reason Jemma couldn't move. Trip was still pointing a gun at her head, and Ward couldn't risk anyone else getting hurt.

"Trip," Ward said, surprised at the steadiness of his voice. He was a turmoil of emotions on the inside.

The other specialist didn't respond. He just kept his unseeing eyes locked on Jemma's quivering form.

"Oh, he can't hear you," Skye's father called casually, flicking a speck of dust off his pristine sleeve.

Panic raced through Ward in one overwhelming wave. He had to protect Skye, but he couldn't let anything happen to Fitzsimmons either. Having gone months without a single proper training, Ward wasn't sure how he would stand in a fight against Trip. And then there was Skye's father to consider.

And perhaps the most frightening thing about this situation was that neither Skye nor Ward was armed.

One of the triggers to activate the bracelet around his wrist was him picking up a weapon, and Ward was sure that with Skye's injury she wasn't carrying anything either. Their only hope was an ICER lying on the ground near Fitz's unconscious form- obviously some failed attempt to defend himself. But Ward dared not make any move towards it when Trip could pull the trigger so much faster.

They just needed a distraction.

"What did you do to him?" came Skye's strong voice from behind Ward and he had to resist the urge to groan out loud, because he was trying to protect her and she wouldn't make it any easier if she made her father angry.

"Young Trip here? Oh, he'll be completely fine."

"That wasn't what I was asking," was Skye's stubborn reply.

Her father regarded her with an amused expression, one that made Ward instantly tighten his grip on Skye, eliciting a pained gasp from her in return. "No I guess it wasn't. Nevertheless, it's the only explanation I'm willing to give at the moment. That's a conversation for another time, another place, when I can give you the answers you've been searching for your whole life."

"She's not going anywhere with you," Ward hissed, trying to hide the fear that the proposal had sent through him, especially when Skye hadn't said anything in response, as if she was actually contemplating it. A desire for answers about her past wouldn't actually trump her hostility towards this man and everything he had done, would it?

Her father fixed his eyes intently onto Ward's, and for a moment Ward saw the stirrings of the monster Raina had talked about reflected in his dark eyes. "The question is, who do you think you are to stop me, little agent?"

"I'm not an agent."

The man chuckled. "You keep on saying that, but your actions speak differently. We can't so easily change who we are, agent Ward, or the things we've done. That bracelet stops you from picking up a gun, but that's not what the real weapon is. Why else would you come back here, if not for the calling of blood?" His eyebrows lifted mockingly. "Unless your desires lie with someone else, my daughter perhaps? Do I need to have the talk with you about what will happen if you hurt her again?"

Ward felt a flash of anger, made even worse by the fact that it was true. "I'm not the one who had her best friend killed."

Skye's father frowned. "Ah yes, that was unnecessary, I'll admit. But it got the job done. The initial photo led you to Miles, Miles led you to that other horrid agent and now," he smiled, "my daughter is in front of me again. Though a little more worse for wear than I'd like," he added on, eyeing the bandages on Skye's arm.

"You can blame your little minion for that."

"Oh, I do," he grinned, flashing perfect white teeth.

"You're a monster," Simmons whispered shakily as tears streamed down her face. Ward felt Skye jerk in his grip trying to get to the other girl, but he pulled her closer when a spark of anger flashed in the other man's eyes.

"There are _no_ such things as monsters!" Everyone flinched at the anger in his voice; the first time he showed there was something beneath his carefully constructed appearance. "That is what humans call things they don't understand; what they deem to be inhuman simply because they can't stand the thought that they might have the same basic feelings."

Skye's made a strangled noise of disbelief. "You _murdered_ an entire village!"

"A village that was going to kill you!" Skye's father strode forward, completely ignoring Trip and Simmons and bypassing Fitz's still body with barely a glance. Ward pulled Skye's body closer to his own. "They killed your mother, and they would've done the same to you, if I hadn't torn apart that village first. They would've murdered you, an innocent, without a second thought, just because they were afraid of what you could've become. By the time I'd found out where they were keeping you, SHIELD had already come." His voice was bitter, holding a hurt and anger born from years of letting it fester like an open wound. "I'll readily admit I'm not above killing humans to get what I want, but I'm not wasteful. It was them or my family; anyone would have made the same decision."

Ward froze, completely shocked at that thought. He'd always accused Skye's father of being a monster, but if what he was saying was true, how was Ward any different? To save Skye, he'd sacrifice the world, and isn't that exactly what her father was saying? No, he must be lying. He had to be.

Skye seemed to have the same line of thought. "No. _No_," her voice got stronger, Ward imagined, as shock gave way to anger. "I don't care what crap you start sprouting. My whole life I've been searching for somewhere I belonged, and I always thought that when I found out who my parents were I would find that. But you, you will never be my father. I don't care what you say; I want you out of this plane, and out of my life. Don't _ever_ touch my family again."

The plane fell into a dead silence as everyone waited to see what his reaction was. At first, it seemed he wouldn't have anything to say, until finally he chuckled and turned around so all Ward and Skye could see was the back of his suit. "Oh, Skye. I've long since accepted the fact that you and I will never have the relationship that we could've, the one our family deserved, but I've spent twenty-four years looking for you," he pointed his fingers at Trip, who, like a trained dog, turned off the safety on his gun with an ominous click, "and young Jemma here has such potential. I'd hate for anything… unfortunate to happen to her." He turned back, and his eyes were only for Skye. "You don't have to like me, but one way or the other; I'm not leaving this plane without you."

* * *

Jemma had always relied on her mind to interpret what she was seeing. Everything that she had dealt with in her job with SHIELD; all the strange mythological deities or paranormal events, they all had scientific explanations. Knowledge had a reason for everything. But eyes, they were easily deceived. They could so easily be misled. Like at that moment, for instance. There was no way Trip would ever have hurt Fitz the way he had. She hadn't seen it happen, merely heard Fitz's startled gasp before his body hit the ground, the gun he had grabbed clattering out of his fingers. She'd let out a scream when she'd seen the blood from a nasty cut on his forehead, and the sight of Trip standing over him with eyes that held no sign of the man they'd both grown to trust.

There was no way her eyes were right, but how could she ignore the screaming warnings from her mind when the evidence was so obvious?

She didn't hear the first part of the conversation between Ward, Skye, and the man believed to be her father. Her mind was in too much turmoil to comprehend much more than Trip's vacant face or Fitz's still form. _Not again, she wasn't losing him again, not when she was finally getting him back_. He'd landed on his stomach, so she couldn't see much of his face but his breathing seemed to be regular. In fact, it appeared to be slightly faster than one would expect for someone who was unconscious.

Simmons smothered a gasp when she saw his hand twitch suddenly, instantly horrified that she might have let Skye's father know Fitz was actually conscious.

She fought back the wave of relief from knowing he was alright. Think, _think_, it was the only thing she was good for. She just needed to keep their attention off Fitz.

Antagonizing, that always seemed to work in movies.

"You're a monster," Jemma suddenly said, and flinched when the man jerked round to face her with madness in his eyes. Oh god, she wasn't brave enough to face this man. She wasn't Skye, she wasn't May. Without Fitz, Simmons was little more than a decrepit machine trying to work with parts missing. It's what made them brilliant: two different minds working seamlessly as one. But the tears streaming down her cheeks were very much real, and Simmons was terrified she'd collapse from the fear coursing through her body, or worse; give Fitz away.

Fortunately for them both, Skye's renewed fights against Ward's grip was enough to get the man turning back to his daughter, and Jemma's knees turned weak when the fire in his gaze was no longer directed at her. That made her a horrible person, right? For letting Skye stand alone against something that was so emotional for her?

She'd certainly blame herself afterwards.

* * *

If Ward had heard any of what Skye's father was saying at that moment, there was nothing in the world that could've stopped him from attacking the man instantly. Skye wasn't some object to barter for. She wasn't something you could just pick up and take away like a toddler from kindergarten. She was the strongest, most stubborn and warm person in the world, and he wasn't about to see that light lost by her monster of a father.

And she was selfless, truly, unbelievably selfless, which was why the only thing holding him back was her deadly tight grip on his wrist while her voice breathed softly, so infinitely quiet he would spend the next few weeks wondering if he'd imagined it in the first place. "Help Jemma. _Please_, Grant, just help her."

He didn't want to. His only wish was to protect Skye; the girl he'd loved and lost. He didn't care about anything else.

But he didn't deserve her, so the least he could do was do what she wanted.

Even if he would hate himself for it afterwards.

* * *

As Fitz's hand restarted its subtle crawl towards the gun that was still a _few feet away_, Simmons risked a glance in Trip's direction. The agent's eyes were blank, totally unseeing, and she was afraid whatever was wrong with him was permanent. In some distant part of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder how exactly he was being controlled, because she refused to think for even a second that he was acting on his own accord. Was some part of his subconscious still active, so that he was aware of his actions but couldn't control them? Or was it more likely that he was simply "knocked out" of his brain? Either way had blaringly obvious faults, but Simmons had seen a lot worse things in her life that made mind control seem like child's play.

But perhaps the biggest risk they were taking at that moment was assuming that Trip couldn't act without being told to by Skye's father. He'd reacted instantly when being signalled to, almost subconsciously, which suggested his eyes weren't truly recording what was happening in front of them, and that gave them a huge advantage.

With Skye's father's attention focused solely on his daughter, Simmons saw Fitz finally close his fingers around the gun. She could see his eyes clearly now: scared, but filled with a fierce determination that she hadn't seen in months. Seeing that glint back in his eyes took her breath away, and if it was any other situation Jemma would've run into his arms and never let him go again.

As silent as a cat, with movements so slow it appeared he wasn't moving at all, Fitz rose to his knees and lifted the ICER towards his target. His eyes betrayed the fear he was feeling as he shot Jemma one last longing look, but his hands were steady as he flicked off the safety, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

Fitz wasn't nearly as subtle as he thought he was.

Ward had realised he was awake the second his hand had started inching towards the gun, but he had to give it to the scientist, he could sure be quiet when he wanted to be. Still though, the only reason Skye's father hadn't heard him was because he was currently giving another long-winded speech about Skye's potential.

Thank god for small victories.

Ward watched out of the corner of his eyes as Fitz levelled the gun- right at the man's back.

_Protect Jemma_, Skye had begged.

Yes, he had to protect her, if not for Skye or Fitz then for himself, because to be honest, Ward couldn't take another night where he saw himself letting down the two scientists.

So instead of covering Skye like every instinct in his body was telling him to do, the second Fitz pulls the trigger Ward's moving; pushing Skye back a few feet before barrelling towards Trip. Ward punches the other agent so hard the momentum carries them both to the ground where he kneels, panting heavily, over Trip's unconscious body. He kicks the gun towards the opposite end of the room, and stands up shakily. They'll deal with Trip when he wakes up.

That's when it hits him how quiet it is.

Why is it so damn quiet?

He turns around slowly, dread coursing through him at what he'll see.

Fitzsimmons are clinging together like the two remaining survivors of a shipwreck. They look up at him with wide, horrified eyes.

"I- I hit him," Fitz stutters, shock finally setting in. "The ICER hit him in the chest- but he just…"

Ward simply stares, feeling like a knife is slowly driving its way into his stomach. Skye's father was gone; no body, nothing to suggest he was even there to begin with. But this was something they'd never forget.

Ward had made a choice. He'd looked after Simmons, and left Skye unprotected.

And now she was gone. Disappeared, just like her father.

He'd gotten what he came for, after all.

* * *

**Okay, so I'm fairly sure I didn't like that chapter, but let me know what you think! If I ever do a rewrite or anything, what you guys think would be awesome. **

**If I was to split this story in two halves, that would be where the first ends. Doesn't necessarily mean that there's going to be another 12 chapters, but just that this is where the story-line takes a bit of a turn with Skye's father playing a large role. **

**Anyway, talk to ya all soon :) **

**-F**


	13. Chapter 13

**Howdy hooligans :)**

**Sorry about the bit of a wait for this chapter, especially you all left such lovely reviews on that last chapter, but it turned out to be a bit more difficult to write than I thought. Plus, I was a bit distracted by repeatedly watching the Avengers trailer over and over. IT LOOKS AMAZING! AHHHHHHHH! Oh god, oh god oh god, can't wait... **

**In light of that, I'm gonna leave you with a quote that is just amazing and particularly relevant to this chapter (and the next probably... mwah ha ha :p) :**

**"YOU'RE ALL PUPPETS ON STRINGS... BUT THERE ARE NO STRINGS ON ME."**

_Chapter thirteen_

Trip woke to the rhythmic beeping of a machine somewhere near his head, and the harsh bite of cuffs around his wrists.

Why the hell was he in handcuffs?

His eyes flew open and he groaned when he was assaulted by a harsh white light that burned itself on the back of his eyelids. He gave one more fruitless tug at the restraints, but honestly, every movement sent yellow spots across his vision and made him want to throw up everyone he'd eaten in the past week. He tried to think past the pounding of his head and figure out what had happened before this, but he couldn't remember anything; nothing but darkness.

Sweat coated his forehead. Why couldn't he remember anything?

"Trip?" came a hesitant voice from his side.

His head spun to the side to fast he had to slam his eyes shut again to stop the world spinning around him.

"Jem?" he mumbled. Only she could have that level of nervous determination in her voice.

"Yes, it's me. Is- is it really you, Trip?"

The agent opened his eyes to slits and regarded her closely. She looked- for lack of a better word- like _hell_. The redness of her eyes and the hiccupping breaths she was taking showed she'd been crying recently, and her hands shook with a ferocity that suggested she was holding together a tidal wave of emotions. "Why would you ask me that?" he said slowly, carefully.

She shook her head; her eyes fixed on the floor full of memories, but didn't give him any other answer. Why wouldn't she look at him? "Jemma… what the hell happened?"

She just shook her head again, and Trip could see tears threatening to spill over her lashes. "Jemma," he said, his voice low, "where's Fitz?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh no no, he's fine, just got a scratch on his forehead. But there's no sign of a concussion. So he's fine," she took a shaky breath. "He's upstairs with the others."

Trip let his head fall back onto the pillow. "Why are my hands damn well handcuffed to the bed, Jemma? Why can't I remember anything?"

She approached him cautiously. "I'm sorry about the cuffs," she said softly, "but we didn't know what… we didn't know who…" she trailed off, looking completely lost.

"Just tell me what happened."

The scientist looked at him with eyes that screamed uncertainty. "I guess… you could say… you were possessed."

Trip would've laughed, downright laughed, if it wasn't for the fact that he couldn't remember anything since this morning, and that he didn't think he actually could make any drastic movement without upchucking all over the floor. Possession? That was something out of terrible horror films. That sort of thing just didn't happen in real life. But Simmons had never been one to exactly joke about the health of the team, and the look in her eyes told him this time was exactly the same. He didn't _feel _any different, except for the raging headache and building pressure in his head, but he didn't exactly have any past experience to go from.

He blinked several times to clear his vision, because there were these fuzzy indistinct shapes hovering at the edge of his eyesight that just weren't going away. "Simmons," he demanded, pulling once again at his wrists, "what did I do? What happened?"

She only had to say one word, but that word changed everything. "Skye."

* * *

There was nothing in the world that could've prepared Ward for the amount of pain he was feeling. Almost a decade of being shot at, punched, stabbed and kicked held nothing to this, held nothing to the pain of seeing Skye's laptop sitting abandoned on the table where she'd been sitting barely half an hour ago.

A Disney movie. She'd been watching a damn Disney movie.

He wished he could actually pick up a gun, because somehow pulling the trigger against his forehead would've been so much easier than when Coulson and May had returned, eyes full of accusations, demanding to know how the hell Skye could possibly be gone and why Trip was unconscious when the Bus hadn't shown any sign of a breach.

He was still wondering that himself, running through the whole scenario over and over trying to figure out when exactly it was that everything had gone so tragically wrong. It was, after all, entirely his fault. If he'd been carrying a gun, if he'd somehow knocked out her father or reacted to Trip faster, then they wouldn't be sitting in the living room thinking about the integral person that was missing.

Coulson had been on the phone for the past twenty minutes, desperately making phone call after phone call to agents, companies, anyone that might have any idea about what had happened. Ward even swore the Director had made a call-albeit a very fast one- to Fury himself. So far, he'd turned up with nothing, but at least he was actually doing something. Everyone else was just sitting in shock.

May was leaning against the wall, her expression and posture screaming an anger that Ward had only ever seen a few, usually when someone tried to mess with their dysfunctional family. Ward knew that despite their polar differences, May and Skye had a relationship which one would expect from a mother and daughter and now knowing that Skye was in the hands of the monster that had been terrorizing her for the past few weeks had blown those feelings sky high.

Simmons was still down in the lab, probably waiting for Trip to wake up so she could see if the mind control would still be active after being unconscious for over half an hour, and without her Fitz looked even more lost than should be possible in this situation.

Ward looked up when he heard Coulson's raised voice. "I don't care what you say!" he was shouting furiously into his phone, "the point is I've got an agent who's been kidnapped by a hostile approximately forty-six minutes ago; there's only so far they could get… You think I don't know that?!... No," Coulson's voice turned almost desperate, "no, you don't understand, we-we have nothing… Well I'll just find him myself then!" Ward flinched when he heard the phone smash against the wall, having never seen Coulson truly show that much anger. But when the Director turned back to the remaining members of the team his face had the same calm façade as always. It was almost unnerving to witness.

Coulson fell into one of the armchairs and rubbed at his face blearily. "There was nothing at the address May and I were sent to," he said eventually, when the silence of the room finally became too much for them to bear, "turned out to be nothing more than an old factory. A diversion," he added on bitterly.

"He wanted as many of us off the plane as possible," May clarified.

Fitz spoke up from his seat. "And we played right into it like bloody idiots."

Ward didn't say anything, but to him it was obvious. If his word could be trusted, Skye's father had spent twenty-four years looking for her. The only reason he hadn't taken her before was because he had no real idea of where she actually was. And once he did, however much Ward hated it, there probably wasn't any number of agents which could've stood in his way. Today had been an event decades in the making, but to Ward there was still something which didn't quite entirely add up. How had her father finally found Skye's location? What had changed which had so suddenly given him so much power?

They were just some of the many questions Ward wanted answered.

His desperate scramble for thoughts was interrupted by the arrival of a frantic- and very much conscious- Trip. Fitz swore, and May stepped forward, ready to act in an instant if something was still wrong with Trip. Simmons arrived, breathless, a moment later and said to them all "he's fine, seems completely in control, he's with us."

_For now_, was what was left unsaid.

Trip, to the great surprise of everyone in the room, spun around to Ward. "Where did he take Skye?" he asked in a frantic voice.

Ward sat frozen, struck dumb by the question and the sheer reason of why he was being asked it. It's not like any of them had an answer, anyway.

Trip swore loudly and ran a shaky hand across his head. Everyone just stared at him. In the past few months, Trip had been the rock everyone could rely on. He'd looked out for Fitzsimmons, he'd been the one to drag Skye away from her laptop or the gym when she was pulling one of her sleepless nights. Seeing him so unhinged, so _weak_, hit them all harder than they'd like to admit. His dark skin looked shallow and wan, and there was a shakiness to his usually controlled movements. He threw himself down into one of the empty chairs and dropped his head into his hands, looking the very epitome of someone struggling to hold everything together.

Ward glanced towards Fitzsimmons, who were talking silently with each other in the corner, matching pairs of worry-filled expressions plastered on their young faces, and back to Trip, who was now muttering almost inaudible apologies over and over under his breath. Ward wasn't sure who he was apologizing to really; Skye or the team. If Skye was here she'd be yelling at him to comfort the other agent somehow, but he stayed seated, because some small, horrible, part of his brain blamed Trip for Skye being gone. That was a tiny part, though; the majority couldn't stop blaming himself.

He shook his head to clear those dark thoughts when he heard Trip's mutterings morph into something else. "There's-there's all these _things_ in my head," the other man was saying. "These symbols that are just- just-" Trip gripped his head tightly. "I can't get them _out_."

Ward, his empathy finally shocked into being, shifted closer to him and said in a low voice "it's alright Trip, you had no control over it. We'll get her back, you hear? We'll get her back." There were no other options for Ward, and there were no ways to really describe the pull he felt towards Skye. It wasn't something that could so easily be captured by mere words. But he knew one thing: oceans, mountains, a sea of raging armies… nothing would stop him looking for Skye. And he was willing to bet he wasn't the only one who felt the same.

"No," Trip continued, "you- you can't see it. It's important. _I can't stop seeing these things_."

Ward looked around, and spotted a pen and a pad of paper lying by Skye's laptop. He shoved them into the agent's hands. "Here," he said, fully expecting the result to be some sort of unintelligible gibberish that had come from having someone else stick their hands in your brain and rearrange it to their needs.

Trip gripped the pen tightly, took a deep breath, and set the nib down to the clean white paper.

When Ward glanced over a few minutes later the paper was packed with writing, these so –called symbols in his head.

The symbols were made of circles and lines and dashes, filling the page with a spidery black scrawl.

The same symbols that had haunted Ward since he'd first seen Garret etch them onto a pane of glass.

The symbols that he and Skye had watched Coulson draw onto the wall.

The symbols that Trip was now seeing after having his mind controlled by Skye's father, the man who'd been chasing them for months.

Ward's body froze, even as his mind whirled in a fury of panicked thoughts, because it would explain _everything_.

The mindless sleepwalking. The sudden changes in emotions. The odd behavior and cold distance to the rest of the team. Everything.

Ward's head slowly looked up, and as he met May's eyes he knew she had come to the same conclusion.

She gave him a subtle nod.

He took a deep breath, every sense working overdrive, and clenched his hands into fists.

He hoped the team would forgive him for what he was about to do.

He and May moved with lightning fast efficiency. Ward's first hit clipped Coulson in the head, so the Director's body fell sideways but remained upright. Ward immediately grabbed the agent's arms and gripped them tightly behind his back so that he was incapable of lashing out in any way. Coulson struggled, but Ward's attack had caught him off-guard and held nothing against Ward's adrenaline-fueled strength. Distantly, Ward could hear the startled shouts from Fitzsimmons and Trip, but he didn't focus on that. They just didn't _know_ yet. Their protests were silenced when May fired an ICER round into Coulson's stomach, immediately rendering him unconscious and limp in Ward's arms. Ward let his body fall to the ground with a thud.

He looked back up to May, trying to regain control of his breathing. The Cavalry's eyes were wide, unable to hide the shock at the sudden turn of events. Her face held a myriad of emotions, so many that Ward's agreement with the well-known saying that May felt nothing behind her thick walls was instantly eradicated. Whoever said that just hadn't seen her in a situation where she was caught off guard, like now for instance, after rendering her oldest friend, the new Director of SHIELD, unconscious.

But that didn't matter, because if what they thought was true, and Ward truly hoped it wasn't, they were dealing with a far bigger situation.

One which found Ward wondering for how long exactly it had been that Coulson's mind was being controlled like a puppet on strings.

Looking at the shell-shocked faces of Trip and Fitzsimmons, Ward realised just how much they had to explain.

* * *

**Well, that was fun. And, oh yeah, I did just turn Coulson into a mind-controlled zombie thing. Oops. **

**So, just 'cos I'm in a particularly Avengers-festive mood, if- big if- I was to add in an Avenger as a character... who would you want?**

**Reviews make me write faster! Just saying! **

**-F**


	14. Chapter 14

**Howdy hooligans :) So, you've probably realised that this is a bit of a wait from the last chapter, but I have my final IB maths exam next week, so things are a bet hectic over here... sorry o_0**

**Thank you so much for all your reviews for that last chapter! It's amazing to hear everything you guys have to say :) Special thanks this time to **VivaGrazia, Lightningtiger2 **and **Biichi-gi** for helping me out for... well, you guys know what. Your advice was greatly appreciated. The rest of you will find out soon enough ;) Mwah ha ha, sorry, but I love having the power of an author. **

**Anyho, might be a bit of a short chapter, but hope you enjoy! Please leave a review to let me know what you think!**

_..._

_Chapter fourteen_

When Coulson awoke, forty minutes later, he found himself in the interrogation room of the Bus.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't exactly have free range of motion, in that his wrists were handcuffed to the armrests of the metal chair, his ankles to the legs, and another belt-like constraint around his stomach. Coulson was no idiot; given a couple of hours alone and he'd find a way to get out of the chair.

But he wasn't alone, he was definitely not alone.

May sat in the chair opposite from him, staring intently at his waking form. There was no expression on her face, no anger or desperation. There was no sympathy or emotion even though she knew waking up from an ICER shot hurt like hell. At the moment she was simply the Cavalry, in her coldest and deadliest form.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on, Agent May?" Coulson said in a cold voice when the blackness had finally faded from his vision.

She didn't say anything. Her brown eyes continued to appraise him with barely so much as a blink. He continued regardless.

"Do you want to tell me why the hell you attacked the Director of SHIELD and tied him up in the interrogation room like a damn criminal?" Anger coloured his voice, but again she didn't react. "Damn it, May! Your commanding officer is asking you why he was just knocked out by his own agents?!"

Finally, May sat forward and leaned her arms on the table. "I know you're in there, Coulson," she said softly, staring deeply into his eyes. "I've known you for over twenty years. I _know_ you."

A look of incredulity swept over the Director's face. "You think I'm not… me?" He gave a futile tug against his restraints. "That's what this is about? Seriously? You have completely overstepped the line here, Agent May. You're already facing probation for attack against a SHIELD commander, but if you don't get these goddamn cuffs off me _right now_, so help me you're going to find yourself locked in a cell _so fast_ not even the name of the Cavalry will be able to help you!"

So that settled it.

A cold calm settled over May, but the only outside sign she showed of Coulson's outburst was a quirk of a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "You've never done that," she said quietly.

"Done what exactly?" Coulson gritted through his teeth.

She paused. "Called me the Cavalry."

For a long time it seemed Coulson wouldn't respond, until finally he threw back his head and gave a laugh that was so _not Coulson_ it sent shivers down May's spine. "You know, I've never understood that," he said, chuckling lightly, "so many people work to be known. It's such a good name, May, you should embrace it! Why do you deny your profound features?"

May practically growled. "Coulson knows why I hate that name."

He smiled. "Ah yes, Bahrain. I was there, wasn't I? Or Phil was, at any rate." He grinned. "They're one in the same at the moment. But I know what you did to those agents, and I saw what that did to you too. But that mission defined you, Agent May, whether for the good or the bad we'll never know, so you shouldn't hide behind the fear of what happened in the past like a child hiding in the night. You should embrace it, and wear that name like a badge."

She clenched her jaw, fighting against the part of her which wanted to push the table in front of her away and wipe that condescending smile off the imposter's face. She found it unbearable when people tried to understand what happened in Bahrain. An army of counselors, Fury, even her own mother; they'd all tried at some point to get into her head. Eventually they'd learnt what Coulson had known from the very beginning: just leave her be. You'd learn nothing from trying to get Melinda May to open up.

So instead of giving in to the rising anger she felt inside, May said in a deadly voice "you're going to tell me exactly what you did to Coulson, and how you're controlling him. And then we're going to talk about Skye."

Coulson raised an eyebrow and sat back, looking as comfortable as you possibly could in the straight-backed chairs. "Oh will I? By my reckoning, I don't have to say anything because there's nothing you can do to me that will harm my original body. But anything you do to this form will just hurt your oldest friend and Agent May, I don't believe you have it in you. As for Skye," he shrugged a shoulder, "what makes you think I know anything about her?"

May sat forward, looking dead into his blue eyes, one's she'd known for so long. Was it possible for something so familiar to be so distant at the same time? "Because you're her father, aren't you? That's why you're possessing Coulson. You just wanted a way in."

"Well done, Agent May, quite the deduction. But I'll admit it took you a little longer than I anticipated to figure it all out, and Coulson here has such high regard for you and your skills. But I assure you, my motives and processes are a lot more complicated than what you assume."

"What do I assume?"

"You think that this is something that can be easily fixed. That I can simply restore his mind to its full capabilities and nothing will have changed." Coulson leant forward as much as his bonds allowed, and on the armrest traced imaginary lines and circles that May had seen far too much of over the past few days. "The drug that bought him back to life gave me a way in; it's rooted into his DNA, and it's not so easily removed. Not by the likes of you anyway."

May sat back, determined to keep the neutral look on her face. "So only you can fix him then, is that what you're telling me?"

There was that smile again. "That's not necessarily true either. My daughter could, if she so chose to embrace her inheritance."

He said it so casually, as if they were talking about the weather or some sports match and not the daughter he'd lost over twenty years ago.

She laughed sharply. "You know nothing about Skye if you think she'll become anything like the monster you are."

Coulson acknowledged this with a dip of his head. "Admittedly, I don't know my daughter as well as I'd like, but that doesn't mean I don't understand her. This… monster… you incorrectly label me is as much a part of her as the name she carries. Skye's been hiding from it her whole life, but sometimes all people need is the proper incentive."

"And you think you have that?"

"Oh, I know I do, Agent May. I can give her the home she's always dreamed of, the family she's wanted her whole life. What were you offering her? A life of pain and deceit?" He rattled his handcuffs angrily. "You are not her family! She does not belong to you!" He snarled. "She is _mine_, and you will never take h-"

May had heard enough.

In one precise motion, she leapt up, grabbed the back of Coulson's head, and slammed it heavily into the metal table. He gasped once, before shuddering and going limp in his seat, the restraints around his body keeping him supported.

May stepped back, not even a bit out of breath. She surprised herself with her lack of guilt she felt by knocking out Coulson for the second time in an hour but, well, it hadn't been entirely justified. He'd bought up Bahrain so when Coulson (she refused to use the word _if_) returned to normal, he wouldn't really blame her.

'_The Cavalry_,' she thought bitterly. God she hated that name.

May turned to the blinking red camera in the top corner of the room where she knew the remainder of the team had probably been watching intently. She could practically imagine Fitzsimmons' looks of shock as they saw her interrogation firsthand.

She gave a bitter smile for the camera. "Cognitive recalibration. Learnt it from an old friend." She looked back towards Coulson, and swallowed thickly. "It won't be enough to get him back," she said steadily, "but it'll give us some time. Call me when he wakes up."

And with that, she walked quickly out of the room. She'd had enough for one day.

* * *

Ward was lost. For the first time since before he could remember, he truly, honestly, completely felt lost. Even when he was in prison, before he'd first met Garret and his life seemed to be leading toward an inevitable car wreck, he'd never felt like this. Ward had always liked to think himself an independent person; it's what kept you alive in an agent's job, but now- with Skye God knows where- he was finally realizing just how much his life revolved around her.

He found himself standing in the cargo bay, staring at the closed doors of the plane. He wasn't thinking of leaving; though some of the restrictions from the bracelet around his wrist had been decreased, he didn't exactly want to test what would happen if he tried to leave the plane without permission. No, he was just trying to imagine how far Skye could've gone in the few hours she'd been gone. The possibilities were practically endless.

"You're not thinking of running, are you?" a voice said from behind him, startling Ward from his thoughts. He turned to see Fitz standing in the doorway of the lab, the shadows of the darkening light making it impossible to see the expression on his face, made it impossible for Ward to figure out why the scientist was even making the effort to talk to him in the first place. Ever since Ward had first returned to the plane and Fitz had punched him surprisingly hard in the face, they hadn't really had the opportunity for a heart-to-heart.

But he guessed a lot had changed since those first few days.

"I'm not running anywhere," was all Ward said, turning back to the door.

He felt Fitz step cautiously beside him. "Skye's out there," the scientist stated simply, "you're not going to go after her?"

"We'll find her." It was the promise Ward would follow through till his death. It didn't matter where, it didn't matter how; _he would find her_.

Silence fell between the two men, but for Ward it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the silence of people who had something in common, something they would fight for.

It was the silence of new beginnings.

"Garret really was a bastard, wasn't he?"

"Yeah… yeah he was."

* * *

There should be a law against people catching planes after working hours.

Oh yeah, there was an unspoken one. _Common freaking curtesy_.

Toni didn't know who the hell wanted to catch a private jet at 10pm on a Friday night, but he'd only been at this job for a few weeks. Maybe this was a regular occurrence, like one of those people his mates had joked about; celebrities who were rich enough to hire a private jet with less than an hours' notice.

"Strictly off the books," Toni's boss had warned him earlier, "no one needs to know he was ever here."

Whoever it was must be a hell of a convincing man if he was able to get his boss into agreeing to this but, Toni supposed, it was easy for his boss. He wasn't the one standing out in the freezing night waiting for someone who probably wouldn't show. On a Friday, of all days. By all intents, he should be wasted by now.

Needless to say, Toni was thoroughly frustrated by the time a sleek black car pulled up on the strip. He strode towards the door and rapped sharply on the tinted window. Who needed tinted windows in Thailand anyway?

The window rolled down, and any arguments that Toni had been about to say fell from his mind like water through fingertips.

"Ah yes, I believe I owe you an apology, my friend," the man said with a large smile.

The man's eyes were a hypnotic brown, like ebony, and Toni found words falling from his tongue as if by their own volition. "No apology needed, sir. I'm just glad to be of service."

The man smiled again, looking thoroughly satisfied with his answer. He opened the door and stepped out of the car, straightening invisible creases in a suit which had probably cost more than Toni made in a year. "I had some important business to attend to, but now it's imperative that I return home as soon as possible."

"And how did your business go, sir?"

The man's eyes glinted in the darkness. "Exceedingly well, thank you, but now I think we're ready for some much needed rest."

"We, sir?"

The man didn't answer immediately, instead turning back towards the car and opening the back door. He reached inside and gently pulled an unconscious figure into his arms. The dim light of the hidden moon betrayed just how young the girl looked, and Toni looked on with shock as the man readjusted her still form in his arms with barely any effort, shifting slightly so her head rolled limply against his shoulder and her dark hair fell over his arm like a flag.

"This is my daughter," the man said to Toni's unasked question. He looked back down at the girl in his arms and, with an unreadable expression on his face, said quietly "China; take us home."

Toni nodded, immediately turning to tell the pilot their destination. It was only later, when he'd finally seen off the plane and returned to his apartment with his bank account significantly larger, that he realised he'd never learnt just who the man and his daughter had been. By the next morning, he'd remember nothing except the fleeting impression of eyes as dark as the night.

* * *

**That was fun. **

**Haha, just looked back at the earlier chapters, and I want to say I'm sorry guys, they're truly not very good, are they? Not that this is any better, really. Pretty sure I still jump around with tenses... not so sure why that is. Thank you for sticking this long with this story! You're all awesome! **

**-F**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys. Sorry bout that bit of a wait, but this chapter proved to be harder to write than I originally thought. Plus school got in the way a bit, but I'm pleased to say this is by far the longest chapter of this story so far, so enjoy!**

**As always, a huge thank you for all your reviews and comments. It's awesome to know what you guys think, so please keep it up! **

...

_Chapter fifteen:_

There were procedures to go through when waking up in an unknown place, Skye knew that. All that controlled breathing and keeping your eyes closed stuff that you always saw in movies. It always seemed to come before some major ass-kicking action which, at the moment, seemed like a pretty good idea.

Unfortunately for Skye, she didn't really have much say in the matter.

It wasn't like in movies, or basically every other time she'd woken up, where your consciousness slowly flitted back and your eyes opened to blink in the soft morning light. It wasn't like where your limbs gently regain movement and you stretch slowly and your mind falls through the final dregs of dreams.

It wasn't like that at all.

Skye was thrust into reality; that's all she could describe it as. Black then white, night then day; one minute she was lost in a never-ending sea of blackness, and the next she was sitting up, desperately gasping for air as her eyes struggled to adjust to the blinding light. Her mind wasn't covered in the haze that usually followed her from sleep, something she would've been grateful for if it wasn't for the fact that it felt like she'd been pulled back from a teetering edge of darkness.

And as she gasped to regain her breath, it hit her all at once.

Trip. Fitz. Simmons. Ward

Her father.

"No," she gasped. With frantic eyes she surveyed her surroundings, taking in everything from the ornately- framed bed she was lying on to the lightly patterned walls. The room was sparsely furnished, with a simple oak bedside cabinet, a wooden privacy screen guarding the far corner and an elaborate chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The room was filled with a warm yellow light spilling from the large glass windows on the opposite wall. The entire room in general was modern, but inviting; slightly Chinese, would probably be the best way to describe it.

In some distant part of Skye's mind, she took in the fact that she was still wearing her own clothes, and that the sling she'd had around her shoulder was neatly folded beside her, which meant that her father hadn't tried anything like giving her a bath while she was unconscious or something horrible along those lines.

As if that made anything better. He'd still kidnapped her.

There was a glass of water on the bedside cabinet to her left, and Skye chugged it back gratefully even as her mind screamed the possibilities of drugs or poisons. She couldn't ignore the fire in her throat and she wondered how long it had been since she'd had anything to drink. A day? A week? A month? There was no possible way of knowing.

'_Right, priorities Skye_,' she thought to herself.

She scooted over to the edge of the bed and slowly lowered her feet to the wooden floor, as if any noise she made could bring back _him_.

She refused to acknowledge him as her father. Not yet.

Skye wobbled slightly when she stood, and again she found herself cursing her father for whatever drug he'd given her that made her legs feel like they could collapse at any second. She could almost imagine Simmons' voice in her head rattling off the various substances which would result in the killer headache currently pounding against her skull, but to Skye it simply felt like all those times she'd woken up hung-over. But at least then she had only herself, and perhaps an overgenerous bartender, to blame. Now… now she was just scared out of her mind.

Keeping her body pressed against the wall, Skye glanced surreptitiously out one of the windows, and what she saw made her chest tighten even more than it had been before.

She's never seen anything like it.

The landscape is picturesque, like one of those places you see on postcards with a cheesy "greetings from wherever" printed on the bottom in a curly script. There's acres of empty grass fields broken every now and then by jagged wire fences. A hill range covered in golden-brown and green trees silhouettes the horizon and the whole valley is bathed in the light from what appears to be a morning sun. Which in itself is concerning; she was certain it had been late afternoon when the man had first appeared on the Bus.

But perhaps the thing that's got her the most worried is that she has absolutely no idea where exactly she is. Places like this? From what little geography she knew they didn't belong in Thailand, or anywhere she'd ever been. But then again she'd been out for at least a day; plenty of time for the man to retreat out of reach of her team. By her reckoning she could be anywhere throughout Asia, so forget the needle in a haystack; at least then you knew where the haystack _was_ in the first place.

'_Okay_,' she thought to herself, '_location is out of the question, so what's next, Skye?_' The answer came to her quickly.

She looked down at the glass she still gripped in her hand and tiptoed soundlessly back towards the bed. Quickly, she ripped off one of the pillowcases, wrapped it securely around the glass before dropping it to the ground and smashing it under her foot. She paused, once again listening intently for any sign she'd been heard. But for now, it seemed, luck was on her side. Certainly, as Skye wrapped the largest shard of glass in the cloth so she could hold it, she felt slightly reassured now she had a semblance of a weapon. It gave her a fighting chance at least, which is all she'd ever asked for.

The biggest surprise was to find that she wasn't even locked inside. She gasped breathlessly when the doorknob twisted under her hand and the door opened with barely a creak. Seems her father wasn't as smart as he thought.

The brightly-lit hallway was also deserted, and Skye crept down it slowly, gripping her makeshift knife tightly. Her ears strained to hear the slightest sound of footsteps. She didn't know where she was, but Skye's only thought was just to get _outside_. Find anyone who might help her and contact the team; she just wanted out. Answers about her father was one thing, _kidnap_ on the other hand… she didn't want anything to do with someone who would treat her like this. Whether he claimed to be her family or not.

The next few rooms as blissfully empty of presence as the room she woke up in, and Skye could feel her hope rising with each discovery. Maybe, by sheer chance, she might actually get out of this.

The next room shattered that thought completely.

She found herself in what must be the living room, one decorated with yet more glass windows overlooking the fields, warm wood-paneled floorboards and sleek black couches huddled towards a large fireplace which crackled with flames, even though the sun had just risen. There was a plush white rug on the floor and several books lying haphazardly on several different surfaces.

It was a room that screamed comfort and warmth- and the man sitting in one of the chairs seemed to agree.

She backed up almost immediately, covering her mouth in a desperate attempt to contain the gasp she's saw had escaped, but she could tell he was well aware of her presence.

He turned his head and smiled when he saw her standing in the doorway. With all the lethal grace of a predator, he stood up, still holding an open book gently in his hands. "Ah, I see you're finally awake," he said with another gentle smile.

Skye blinked. It wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting, but while he was talking… "Where am I?" she asked through gritted teeth, fingering the glass in her hand. She'd always hated that line; the first thing all damsels in distress from movies and books seemed to ask: their location. She'd never seen why it had mattered when it was always so obvious that the abductor wasn't about to share anything.

Now she understood. Unconscious for an unknown amount of time? The first thing you wanted to know was where the hell you were.

The man gestured around the room. "This is home, Skye," he said in a soft voice, as if trying to provide some sense of normalcy in this situation. "Or at least the home you've always deserved."

She clenched her teeth. "You drugged me."

He shrugged, and he actually appeared slightly apologetic. "I didn't actually drug you, merely just convinced your mind to take a nap for a few days. You needed it." He looked at her gently. "How's your shoulder feeling?"

_Her shoulder? _Skye looked down, and moved her arm around slowly, fully bracing herself for the sharp twinge of pain she'd been dealing with for the past few days that usually accompanied the movement.

But it never came.

Her wide eyes shot back up to the man's. Her shoulder felt fine; perfectly, absolutely fine. "What did you do?" she asked breathlessly.

He merely smiled and tapped a finger against his nose, before turning back towards the fire. Skye, almost involuntarily, followed him.

He looked down at the book in his hands. "Are you familiar with Dylan Thomas's work? 'Do not go gentle into that good night,'" he read out, "'old age should burn and rave at close of day.'" Her father shook his head and looked back up at Skye. "A brilliant poet, in my opinion. Quite a way with words."

And with that, he threw the book in the fire.

"You know," he said, turning back to Skye, the wild colours of the fire reflected in his dark eyes, "it always amazes me how much fear man holds to death. _The Rising Darkness_," he chuckled. "Darkness is inevitable either way you look, so why let yourself fear it? You should embrace it, in my opinion"

"We fight for what we believe in."

"Oh, I know you do. And yet, humans still amaze me."

"You say that like you're not one," Skye said carefully, and there was that smile again. The one that said the truth was far more complex than she knew. And she was sick of it. "That's the second question you haven't answered, you know," she gritted out.

He sighed deeply and settled back into one of the chairs, stretching his arm out across the back; the perfect picture of someone completely at ease, and that just served to make her even more annoyed. "You got me, alright?" she stated angrily. "I'm obviously not going anywhere anytime soon, so the least you could do is answer my damn questions!"

He regarded her carefully. "You can leave if you want," he said casually, straightening his suit.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You'll just… let me go? That seems a bit anticlimactic."

He nodded his head as if he didn't have a care either way. "I won't stop you. If you want to never see me again, I'll respect that. Of course, that does mean you won't learn anything about your past."

A cold feeling Skye's never felt before floods her body. She could leave; she could be out of this house and back in civilization. She could find out where she is and call her team. She'd hug Fitzsimmons and Coulson and Trip and May, despite the protests she knew would come from the latter. And Ward… she'd just be able to see him again.

But then she wouldn't _know_.

Skye dropped the shard of glass from her fingers- to be honest she'd forgotten all about it, really- and earned her another blinding smile.

It suddenly struck her that her father might know her better than she originally thought.

* * *

Which is how Skye finds herself ten minutes later, sitting at one of those massive tables you see in movies which is covered in a literal buffet of breakfast foods; from tureens of fruit to stacks of toast and spreads. She doesn't ask where all the food came from- she's too busy marveling at the sheer _weirdness_ of it all- but all the same she'd been grateful, because as soon as food is mentioned, she found she's starving. She didn't even stop to consider the implications of accepting food from her abductor, and tries to ignore his stare from the opposite end of the table.

It's a little unnerving, she decided, to be facing someone who by all rights should scare the hell out of her. She knows what he's done, and she hates him for it. But at the moment he's also the one with the answers she's always wanted, so if they're doing this, they're doing it her way.

"So," she said lightly through a mouthful of cereal, "you're my father, huh?"

He tapped his fingers against the table. He looked vaguely amused. "I guess that would be the easiest place to start. Yes, I'm your father." He raised an eyebrow when she let out a snort. "You find that funny?"

"Oh no no," she said, waving around a hand, "I just didn't think my father would have such expensive taste." She gestured towards his pristine clothes.

He chuckled. "Yes, well, I find suits serve quite a number of purposes. Intimidation, for one."

"Oh yeah, I can definitely see that."

The man's head tilted slightly to the side, and Skye knows that he was studying her carefully. "You're not like that though. You don't need intimidation to be noticed. You're like your mother."

Skye froze, a spoonful of food halfway towards her mouth. She hadn't expected _that_ conversation to come up quite so fast. She swallowed thickly. "My mother?"

"She was a lot like you. Beautiful, mesmerizing, selfless. If she could see you now…" his voice trailed off, obviously lost in memories of a time far in the past.

Skye looked down, suddenly unable to meet the full force of emotions she saw in her father's dark eyes. "You said they killed her," she all but whispered, "who did?"

He sat back heavily in his chair and pointed a finger towards one of the windows. "You were born in a village about five miles that way, the same village your mother grew up in. I wasn't there when you were born… if I had, maybe things would've turned out… different… but once they saw you, once they saw that you were different well, they considered it unnatural. Your mother tried her hardest, she hid you to the best of her ability but eventually she had nowhere else to hide. Her neighbors, people she'd known her whole life, rejected her in an instant."

There was more than a little anger in his voice, and Skye remembered instantly what had happened to the people in that unfortunate village. "My mother was human?" She asked hesitantly.

He let out a breathless laugh. "How have you gotten into your head that you're not?"

Skye stared at him. "Maybe something to do with the fact that you somehow turned my friend into a walking, talking psychopath."

"Antoine Triplet, was it?" he nodded. "He's a good man."

"Yes he is, so what the hell did you do?" She would never be able to get the image of Trip threatening Simmons like he had.

"I merely gave his mind a change in direction. He'll be fine, no lasting side effects to speak of, I needed him simply as a way to get on that plane of yours. Coulson on the other hand… well…" There was another smirk on his lips, and Skye felt her blood run cold.

She sat forward, staring intently at the man opposite her. "What. Did. You. Do," she said, her voice deadly cold. If her father had done anything to Coulson or anyone else on the Bus, she didn't need a weapon; she'd tear him apart with her bare hands.

"Think, Skye," her father said, seemingly perfectly calm in the face of her anger. "You're no fool, so _think_. You've suspected something for months, but refused to let your mind see what's right in front of you."

She just stared at him, feeling dread seep into her mind. She'd known something had been wrong with Coulson, had suspected it ever since they'd first arrived at the Playground. But her instincts combined with intense advice from May meant that like a damn fool she'd done nothing. But Ward, he'd known something; she'd seen it in his eyes the first night he'd seen Coulson drawing those symbols on the wall. What had Ward realised? Surely if he'd suspected something he'd have told her, right?

"I am not your enemy, Skye," her father continued, "and I'll never lie to you. When Raina first came to me claiming she'd found you, I had to be sure. I couldn't get to you, not with how deep you were in SHIELD, it'd draw too much suspicion to me. But Coulson, his mind was very much open."

"The alien writing," Skye said softly.

He frowned. "An unfortunate side effect. I haven't completely figured out how to stop that, or what's causing it in the first place. Might be the mind reacting to another's contact," he mused.

"And Miles? Lloyd? How'd they fit in with everything?"

"They weren't originally part of the plan. Everything I did, the photo of you, the writing on the wall, it was all meant to show you I was there, that I was looking for you. Lloyd wasn't meant to snap the way he did. You weren't meant to be hurt."

"He killed Miles." Her voice was hard, determined to betray none of the chaos she felt inside.

"He did, and for that I'm truly sorry. Lloyd, he… he was never the same after I approached him. Some people just can't take the knowledge of how the world really is, but I never anticipated he'd be that violent."

"You think it matters what you thought?! They're both dead, all because what? You didn't think to try and find me twenty-four years ago?!"

"Don't you think I tried? I did all I could, but SHIELD had done their job too well; there wasn't any trace of you in any of their systems, and if they'd learnt I was looking they'd have killed you in a heartbeat. Organizations like SHIELD aren't the havens you presume them to be. If they learnt anything about your potential, do you think they'd hesitate to eliminate you? Lock you up in one of their prisons to never see the light of day again? I'm sorry about the way you grew up, Skye, but I was trying to protect you. You need to believe that."

The way he talked made everything seem so convincing. She wanted to believe him, wanted to think that there must've been a reason she spent the first fifteen years of her life being shipped around from family to family, never quite feeling like she belonged. There was a part of her- not a terribly small one either- that wanted to forgive him of everything he'd done. But he'd have to earn it first.

"Prove it," she said defiantly. "You want me to start listening? Prove I can trust you. Let go of whatever creepy hold you have over Coulson."

He stared at her intently. "It's not that simple, Skye. The only reason I had a hold over him for so long was because of the drug in his system."

"The GH-325? What do you have to do with that?"

"You'll learn that soon enough. More importantly, when that drug saved Coulson's life, it grafted with his DNA, allowed me a way in unlike what I had with Trip or Lloyd. If I take that away, Skye, if I take away my interference in his mind, I don't know what will happen. He could be completely fine, or he could turn into a madman. Like Lloyd did."

Skye bit her lip. "He survived before," she argued.

He inclined his head. "Yes he did."

She could only see one option: she knew Coulson, and she knew that the last thing he'd want was for his mind not to be his own. If her father was telling the truth, he'd been possessed-for lack of a better word- for months. It was far past time for that to end.

Her father had started this mess; he should be the one to finish it.

"Do it. Leave him alone, and never touch one of them again."

"If that's what you want, then fine," was his only reply, "consider your team safe. Even the man who betrayed you."

She blinked, brushing away the jab at Ward. "That's it?" she asked, "it's that easy?"

"It's that easy. And one day, my dear Skye, once you've embraced it, you'll see that too."

* * *

**So, I hope that cleared up a few things. Or just made you even more confused. Either one. ****Hopefully over the next few chapters things will improve a bit more on that front. But for now, thank you so much for your patience :) I'm hoping that after this week school will die down a little bit so hopefully I'll have more time to write and update. **

**Thank you so much!**

**-F**


	16. Chapter 16

**Howdy hooligans :) So... most of you know the drill by now. I suck at updating. So now I'll just say one massive SORRY for my inability to produce a chapter in less than a week. I know how frustrating it must be, 'cos no one is more annoyed at me than, well, me. I know I've said it before, but seriously I only have two more days of school left, so hopefully I'll just be able to churn this story out. Then again, I've got an obscene amount of work to do other the christmas period, so honestly I have no idea what's gonna happen. **

**So thank you thank you thank you for everyone that has anything to do with this story, whether it be reviewing or reading or contributing; you're all absolutely amazing :)**

**To be honest, this chapter isn't all that interesting; more of a filler one really. But its needed, even if its just to get the timing right on everything. Sorry... **

**... **

_Chapter sixteen_

The past three days for May had been hell.

It had taken sixteen hours of threats and snarky comebacks from Coulson before the rest of the team realised they were far out of their league trying to deal with his situation on the Bus. Although it practically killed them to do it, they'd decided to leave Thailand and return back to the Playground where- hopefully- they'd have access to something which would. They couldn't let anyone else, from within SHIELD or not, know that for the past few months the Director had been brainwashed by an unknown hostile. Their organization was already precarious enough without everyone questioning the leadership.

They had no other option, really, but it still felt like they were leaving Skye behind to fare for herself.

They'd arrived at the Playground the day after, and Koenig had taken one look at May dragging along a manically-grinning Coulson before directing them towards the secure cell in the basement, muttering something about not even being able to trust the Director with a lanyard these days. He hadn't even looked at Ward, despite knowing the ex-agents somewhat personal connection regarding Eric's brother. At the moment, they had bigger concerns, such as how to get their Coulson back, then how to find Skye.

After three days, they'd achieved nothing for both.

Coulson, or at least the man inhabiting his mind, gave little explanation as to his actions. Whenever May or Ward tried to glean some information from him, he merely smiled and repeatedly warned them not to intrude on things which didn't involve them. "I've been cooperating so far," he would tell them, "but remember, I could very easily… stop eating… or bash my head against this desk. At this moment nothing is stopping me from hurting this form."

Of course, even the painful digs at her past didn't stop May from sitting in his cell for hours on end, desperately wishing that this nightmare could just be _over_ so they could focus on getting Skye away from her monster of a father. But so far they had nothing. Fitzsimmons barely understood Coulson's condition, let alone knew anything about how to change it. The only thing they'd discerned once May and Ward had told the scientists about Coulson's nightly excursions over the past few months was that it must've been some subconscious reaction, which meant that at some point of the day Coulson's mind had been his own.

But even that knowledge wasn't much.

It was on the third day, when May walked into the cell at the early hours of the morning, that something changed.

For one thing Coulson was still in his handcuffs, which had never happened before. Every time, no matter how impossible they made it, he'd somehow managed to escape from the restraints. But they'd persisted, if only because it gave a small sense of normalcy to the otherwise impossible situation. But today, for some reason, he'd left them on.

Coulson looked up as she walked into the room, and May's breath caught in her throat at how suddenly gaunt he looked. They'd had a hard time getting Coulson to eat over the past three days, and now suddenly that showed. The lines on his face were more pronounced, actually making him look his age instead of the positive, experienced agent he'd always seemed in the past. But it was the haunted, hating look in his eyes which made May pause.

"Melinda," he said in a cracked voice.

And that one word was enough to tell her he was back. _Her_ Coulson, not whoever or whatever he'd been before.

"You're with me?" she asked quietly.

He nodded slowly. "I… it's different. Something's different. Like there's no one watching over my shoulder."

Right then. She strode to his side and latched her hands onto his shoulder, shaking him- none too gently- so he looked up at her in alarm. "I don't know how much time we have," she said quickly, "you've been out for three days. We know Skye's father's in your mind, and we know he has her, so if you know _anything _tell me now."

His eyes were wide, shocked, and he had to wet his lips several times before he asked "What happened to Skye?"

May stared at him. Retreating back a few steps, she forced herself to take a breath and compose her usually faultless façade. In a monotone voice, she told him the little they knew- about his possession, Skye's kidnapping and their resulting lack of knowledge. She fought hard to keep her voice neutral, her emotions in check, but as he always did Coulson saw right through it. His eyes grew wide as he caught on to the sheer hopelessness of their situation. Skye could be anywhere. _Anywhere_. Three days was a lifetime to give someone to hide, and some small part of May's mind had been relying on the fact that when- definitely when- they got Coulson back he'd have some way of knowing where Skye's father was hiding.

But that had just been blown out of the water astronomically.

"I'm sorry, Melinda," Coulson said in a voice that was filled with absolute disgust for himself.

She stared directly into his gaze. "Don't apologize. We agreed a long time ago not to apologize for things we couldn't control." They'd been plenty of apologies after Bahrain, when he'd held her shaking body through the night when the shadows of the dead seemed never-ending, when the haunting eyes of those she'd pulled a trigger against followed her constantly. Sometimes in those moments only the whispered- _pleading_\- apologies seemed to convey that sort of emotion.

"Skye-"

"Will be able to look after herself for now." May tried to put every ounce of belief into that statement, because at the moment that was exactly what they all needed; the belief that nothing could've happened to Skye.

The team's hope was relying on the slimmest of threads: that not once had Skye's father ever been violent towards her. Sure, he'd incited multiple murders and explosions, but apart from her injured shoulder, Skye's father had never shown anything towards his daughter except a prevailing need to be reunited. If he'd wanted her dead, May reasoned, he could've done it a lot sooner.

Not that that was much reassurance for anyone.

"I know she will," Coulson continued, "but her father… he's not what we thought, but she can't trust him either."

May frowned. "What do you know about him?" she asked.

There was a glint of genuine hurt in Coulson's eyes that made May's own heart clench. But there was hopelessness there as well, as if he had long accepted the fact that he was undeniably linked to Skye's father in ways they couldn't yet comprehend. Whether he hated it or not, Coulson was now their biggest lead in getting back their lost agent.

Their new problem was that he just didn't know it.

Coulson swallowed thickly. "I couldn't tell you anything, Melinda. There's something _there_ but I just- I can't- I don't know it. I can't reach it and God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh God _Skye_, I'm sorry-"

May pulled his body closer and pressed her forehead against his, desperate to provide the calm and determination that he was lacking. She felt his erratic heartbeat under her solid grip and pulled him closer. It didn't matter about the past three days, or that neither of them had a clue as to whether Coulson's mind would be his own in the next moment; May was just simply letting him know that she was there, as he'd so often been for her.

He'd been dealing with this alone for the past three months and she'd watched him. She hadn't done anything while his mind had slowly been consumed, and that guilt would follow her for the rest of her life. But she could make up for it now and God help anyone that tried to stand in her way.

"We'll find her, we will. We'll get her back."

* * *

Fitz looked up from the screen when he heard a quiet sob from across the room, and sighed when he caught sight of Simmons fruitlessly trying to wipe away her tears. She'd been like this, one minute possessed by a furious and unrelenting determination to find Skye and the next a sobbing wreck, for the past three days. At first it had been the guilt of her lack of reaction in the face of Trip's gun which had haunted Simmons, but that had slowly developed into frustration at herself for having found nothing since. The only thing Fitz could do was watch his oldest friend furiously berate herself, and console her when she could no longer hold back the tears.

"Jemma," he started quietly.

"I can't," she said breathlessly, staring with wide eyes at the information on the screen in front of her. "I can't find _anything_. There's too many parameters and- and we know nothing about him, Fitz! He could've literally taken her anywhere and we have nothing! He's a ghost and even with the technology Eric's developed there's nothing linking Skye's father to anyone. And we can't fix Coulson and- and-"

"Oh for the love of God," Fitz muttered as he strode across the room and gathered Jemma's slim form against him. Her forehead dropped onto his shoulder and he pressed his cheek against her hair, ensuring that they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

The truth was he couldn't see any way out of this. Skye was gone, and they had no leads to rectify it. Originally, they'd thought Skye's father would be bound by their location; you couldn't catch a flight if you technically didn't exist. But that was before security footage from the closest airport showed Skye's father boarding an unregistered private jet late that first evening, and well… they'd been blown right back to square one. If there was ever a square one. That would imply that you had some semblance of what you were dealing with in the first place.

They knew nothing, except that Skye's father was damn good at getting inside people's heads.

Fitz had kept a stoic face despite his misgivings, mostly because he wasn't yet ready to accept a life without Skye. She was as much a part of his family now as Simmons and this… in some ways this was worse than when she'd been shot and fighting for breath all those months ago. At least then they'd known what they were facing. At least then they'd had a fighting chance at saving her. Now though, all the team could do was sit back and let Skye take the blows. And God, did that hurt Fitz more than he'd ever admit. By nature, he was a person who was constantly on the move, whether it was fixing some intensely complicated mechanism or working on one of his numerous designs. But as each day passed, it became apparent to both him and Simmons that this wasn't something which could just be fixed by intellects. No, this was a fight won by ruthlessness and blood and fire.

But he'd never tell Simmons that, purely because she was like him; she needed to feel like she could save their friend.

"Give Skye some credit, Jem," he whispered into her hair, "she can take care of herself. She'll be fine."

"I know she will," Simmons said in a broken voice, "I just can't lose her, Fitz, I _can't_."

"You won't. We're gonna find her. All of us; we'll get her back. Just let them try and stop us."

* * *

"So is it like that mind thing from Harry Potter, where if you kill Coulson then one piece of you dies too?"

Her father chuckled- actually _laughed_, which made him seem somehow more… human. "I should've known you'd have some unfortunate weakness for modern literature," he said lightly, looking at her with amusement. "Unfortunately, my taste is a bit more refined. Poets, I've found, have a rather fortuitous way of perception."

"Fortuitous, huh?"

He hummed in affirmation. "And I can assure you, my dear, Harry Potter? It holds nothing to the real world. Nor does it give any indication as to the inner workings of the mind."

Skye fell back into an uncomfortable silence. She'd long since finished eating, but they'd remained at the obscenely large table regardless, trapped in the awkward embrace of two people who knew nothing about each other; a kidnapper and his victim. Although she probably couldn't be described as that now, could she? She'd chosen to stay because she'd needed answers. Everything that happened to her now was because she'd been too foolish to run; because she had some insatiable need to find out what had happened in her past. And some distant part of Skye's mind had a feeling she wouldn't be given the same offer of freedom again.

"You're very good at avoiding answers," she said suddenly.

"Well, maybe you just haven't asked the right questions," he answered with a smile.

She glared at him. "You said you'd answer them. All of them."

Her father was silent for a long time, watching her closely as he tapped a finger against his glass. Finally he chugged back the rest of his drink and stood up, tugging unnecessarily at his impeccable suit, before walking around the table. Skye resisted the urge to shrink away as he approached her and held out a hand.

She stared up at him.

His eyes were unreadable as he said quietly, "some things can't be told, Skye, trust me. Let me show you."

"What?"

"Think of it as a field trip of sorts. It's time we got out of this house."

* * *

May reacted without thinking when she felt Coulson stiffen in her arms. She was up and across the room before he even had a chance to blink. She wasn't carrying any weapons on her- earlier she'd deemed them too dangerous if by any chance they fell into the _wrong_ hands- but she was ready to face a brainwashed Coulson regardless.

Only he wasn't.

He blinked up at her, eyes with the same familiar glint, before giving a strained smile. "You won't get rid of me so easily, May," he said gently.

May released a breath she didn't know she was holding before frowning in annoyance. This whole situation was getting very old very fast. The constant worrying and jumping whenever Coulson made a sudden movement; the stress wasn't fair on either of them. But for the past hour since he'd woken up, Coulson hadn't shown one sign of who he'd been for the past three days, and he seemed no different now.

"Sorry," she said, falling back into her chair. He shrugged in a way that said he didn't blame her, but his posture was still stiff and his eyes carried a look that was miles away. "What are you thinking about?" she asked slowly.

He hesitated, then said in a voice that screamed uncertainty "I have an idea."

May sat up straight, looking at him intently. It could be a trick. This whole thing could've been one impressive act on Skye's father's account to get her close, so it was with a cautious voice that she asked "what have you got in mind?"

He bit his lip slightly- a habit he'd seemed to grow over the past few hours. "I'm not entirely sure, but I know you're not going to like it."

"I don't have to."

"Then we're going to need some help."

* * *

**I've always wanted to use the word fortuitous! Doesn't mean I've learnt how to spell it though... haha**

**So, I need your help. I'm not too sure whether to continue having chapters like this, or ones where it just focuses on one character like Skye and then the Others (Ward, Coulson, Fitzsimmons and everyone are hereby known as the Others, yes). The latter would probably mean things would move along faster... but just let me know what you think! **

**And before you ask, Ward will be in the next chapter. Don't worry :p**

**THANK YOU!**

**-F**


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know what I said, and I know how long it's been. But my laptop decided to pretty much internally-combust so it's been with some techy-dude for the past few days, and even though I'd backed up this story I just got really unmotivated by everything. I dunno... this story just seems too AU now that I don't even really know what's going on. **

**Another sorry, because despite what I said in the last chapter Ward's not actually in this one. It ended up being a lot longer than I imagined, but I swear he'll be in the next. In all of his rugged glory ;)**

**Which brings me on to the next thing. I HAVEN'T SEEN THE FINALE YET. It only shows in NZ on Sunday, so if you guys didn't mention any spoilers, it'd be great. I already know the whole Daisy thing, 'cos apparently the day after the finale showed fanfiction decided to change her name in the character list at the top of every story so... hey... that's very cool. But I really don't want to know anything else, okay? Please?! **

**So obviously this story is extremely AU by now, and nowhere near the league of the show. But hope you enjoy the longest chapter yet :)**

_Chapter seventeen:_

There was something refreshing about breathing in the morning air. It wasn't often that Skye actually felt it having lived in the city for most of her life. Her job with SHIELD meant that she'd seen more of the world than she'd ever thought possible, but still she'd never really been here; a place with fields of endless grass and no other apparent signs of human life. It was eerily beautiful, and Skye couldn't help but breathe in the crisp air deeply.

She had no idea where they were heading. Her father, with one last look over his shoulder to make sure she was actually moving, hadn't said anything more to her. It didn't help that, even after what she estimated was over an hour of walking, the environment around them had barely changed at all. The hill range on the horizon remained as stubbornly distant as ever and the worn path they were following cut its way through an endless sea of golden grass. The only way Skye actually judged they were making ground was the increasing slope of the ground under her feet, which had actually left her slightly breathless and increasingly frustrated every time her boots skidded on the dirt.

She hadn't said a word though, whether in argument or annoyance, and so the silence between Skye and her father stretched as endlessly as the path they followed. Subconsciously, she found herself trailing a few steps behind, both where she could keep an eye on the man in front of her and get a grip on her turbulent thoughts. She'd lost control of the situation a few times back there, and she needed to get control of her emotions and remember the game plan: get information and get out. Find a way to contact the team, then retreat to some far off place where she'd make sure her father could never touch them again. Easy as pie, right?

Easy. As. Pie.

She cursed under her breath when she slipped once more, and saw her father send a quick glance over his shoulder. "You alright?" he asked quietly, never faltering in his step.

She gritted her teeth, forcing her feet to drag in the stones. "That depends," she countered, "I'm _alright_ at hacking someone's Wi-Fi. You're asking if I'm okay with ruining my favorite boots on the road to _hell_, and I think that's a bit self-explanatory."

She couldn't see his face, but her father's head tilted towards the sky as if searching the heaven's for the patience he would need to deal with her, and she smiled in triumph.

"You chose to remain here, Skye," he reminded her, "and I haven't forgotten why. You want what most people want in the world: to find out who you really are. But the past doesn't always hold the answer to that, believe me. It doesn't tell us who we are it just gives an explanation for it. But you don't care about that," he said with a sideways glance. "you just want to know."

She focused on her footsteps, on keeping one foot in front of the other and not falling to the ground. There wasn't much she could give as an answer, after all.

"I know that," he said, turning back to the front. After a beat, he added quietly "we're almost there."

She didn't need to ask where they were, because almost immediately the incline under her feet had flattened out and the hill they'd been slowly climbing levelled out so all at once a valley lay before them. At a glance, it appeared similar to the one they'd just left behind; similar grounds, similar lack of life. It had one noticeable difference however, in that there was a veritable village sprawling across the land; paths and houses and gardens; everything one would expect of a place alive with activity. But even from her distance however, Skye could see neglect seeping into crawling its way into the heart of the village. Roofs had long-since caved in under the weight of years of neglect and the relentless weather and there wasn't a flicker of movement, whether from trees blowing in the gentle wind or from any sign of human life.

It was a place that screamed abandonment, and Skye's eyes widened as she realised what it was and the implications held behind it.

"You know this place," her father prodded gently from her side, "you've been here before, even if you can't remember it."

Colours flashed across her vision. "China," she said softly. "We're in China."

She felt, rather than see, him nod. "This is where your mother died. It's where you were born. It's home, Skye, or what's left of it."

* * *

The message came in the early hours of the morning; the dead silence of the night broken by the sudden squawking of a radio that had sat dormant for the past year; a message only known to a select few.

A number that was slowly dwindling.

It signaled a location, and that in itself bought a surge of hope. Perhaps, after months of searching, there would be an end. Hope was a useless thing to hold on to, but it demanded itself nonetheless. Humans were weak creatures after all. They held on to the slimmest of threads, mistaking it for a lifeline, and relied upon it to fix everything. Hope was useful, of course, as long as it was contained. It made you foolish… reckless… and she was anything but.

Hope was the surest way to get you killed, after all.

* * *

Skye was walking in a daze. If you asked her what time it was or who was with her- hell, even her name- she wouldn't be able to tell you. All that mattered were the buildings- if you could give that name to rundown burnt-out husks. From a distance the destruction had seemed bad, but it had nothing on seeing it this close. There didn't seem to be a roof that hadn't caved in, or a wall of mottled bricks half-crumbled to rest in sodden clumps and interwoven with jagged lines of weeds. Nothing was recognizable, everything identical with neglect, and yet Skye moved like a ghost through the village, following some semblance of a path or an age-old memory.

Distantly, she remembered that she wasn't alone, and she spun around quickly to face her father's grave face. "Have you ever been here?" she asked in a dazed voice.

He nodded. "When I met your mother, and several times… after," he knelt down and picked up a fist sized chunk of rock, "I told you I wasn't there when you were born, Skye, or when your mother was killed, but I've tried many times to understand what happened." He surveyed the surroundings with a look that could only be described as disgust before throwing the rock against the nearest wall where it smashed into splinters. Skye resisted the urge to flinch at the sudden noise.

"What about the other villagers?" she said, "surely one of them is still alive?"

He shrugged. "A few still live in another town a few hundred miles away. Others…" he trailed off with another shrug.

She narrowed her eyes. "The others? What happened to the others?"

He looked at her, and once again Skye was struck by the barely-contained emotion in his dark eyes, eyes that she was only just beginning to see the resemblance to her own. "I killed them," he said simply, "after I saw you'd been taken, and after I found her body… I killed them."

For a few seconds, it was all she could do just to stare at him and open and shut her mouth like a fish out of the water, because she had no possible way of knowing what she could say. She'd known that, known that her father had massacred an entire village the same day SHIELD had taken her, but she'd never imagined there'd be an explanation for it. And hearing him say it, as a reaction to losing both her and her mother in the same hour, actually gave it a sense of believability, as if on some level she could accept the horrible things her father had done.

And that scared the hell out of her.

Skye turned around and ran a hand through her hair. She needed to get out. She just- she just needed to get away from it all for a second. Away from her father, from the ghosts. Just everything.

She strode away, stumbling slightly on rocks and uneven ground that hid under the guise of grass and other small plants. She heard no word of protest from her father, which meant he either trusted her enough not to run away or trusted the fact that here, in a place built on broken stone and memories, she had nowhere to hide.

In her next coherent thought, Skye found herself tucked against dark corner, her legs pressed to her chest and her chin propped up on her knees. There were no tears on her cheeks, something for which she was internally grateful for, but all she knew was that every now and then, her vision swirled and it felt like the whole world was tumbling away in slow motion. She wondered if that's what shock is supposed to feel like, and wondered that, in spite of her best intentions, she's finally lost control of her body.

Certainly, this is similar to what she'd felt when she'd first learnt about Ward being Hydra. The same feeling of the ground being swept from under her feet; the same familiar feeling of loss. All those months ago it'd been the despair of having been shown to be completely wrong about someone she cared about that had hit her the worst. Now? Now it was just the complete and utter understanding that she had no one to fall back on. There was no team this time, although she refused to believe that they weren't looking for her. It was just her and her father. Alone. Like he'd wanted.

Almost unbidden, she found her thoughts turning to Ward. He'd look at her, those unreadable brown eyes boring into her own, before giving her a nudge into action. He'd be gentle, but firm. He'd tell her that she could get out of this if she kept her head, if she was smart about things. He'd reassure her that everything would work out in the end.

The old Ward would've at any rate. The pre-Hydra one. Skye guessed she didn't really have any idea what the real him would do- she hadn't given him a real chance to show her.

She took in a shaky breath and looked up at the sky- blue sky; lighter now that the sun had risen- and smiled. It was her constant, no matter how cheesy it sounded. Wherever she was; in the many different foster homes, later living in her van or even on the Bus, there was always the sky. It was the name she'd chosen when she was twelve years old, and it was the thing that'd get her through now.

She rose to her feet and put a hand on the wall to steady herself.

And that's when her vision tumbled down around her and-

_-she sees a hand banging frantically against a wooden door. The other is carefully, oh so carefully, cradling the precious load to her chest. She looks over her shoulder, convinced that the shadows hide a multitude of enemies, and knocks again in earnest. Again and again, until finally a crack of bright light appears eyes that are so familiar to her peer through the gap. _

_"Please," she gasps. She's never been one for begging, never really been one for asking someone for anything, really. But she's never been this desperate before either. Never felt this life-threatening fear. _

_The eye blinks once, and it's all the time she needs to see a blaze of emotions present in one of the people she's known for her whole life though. All the same though, the door hasn't opened an inch, and she resists the urge to scream at the other women. The noises from somewhere behind her are becoming more distinct now, and she knows time's limited; knows every second could mean life or death for the one she's known for so little time, but already means more to her than the world itself. _

_"Please," she insists again, "please just take her. Hide her until..." her voice trails off. Until what? Until she manages to return? Until somehow they aren't being hunted out like rats? There's no happy ending to this, she's beginning to realise that. But she's determined that it won't end it bloodshed. _

_The eye blinks again. "You know… you know I can't do that. They'll come for her here. We- I-" the voice catches, the eye can no longer meet her own, and she feels her hope plummet. "I'm sorry, Jiang, I-I'm sorry." _

_And just like that the light's gone, and she's alone once more in the cold night. She stares with disbelief at the closed door, feeling her breath catch once, twice, until desperation's clawing at her lungs and she wants nothing more but to slump down to the ground and beg for mercy from her pursuers. She doesn't dare; either the knowledge of who's pursuing her or a fierce motherly instinct keeps her on her feet. _

_The bundle in her arms snuffles a little, and she takes a second- just a second- to smile down at her baby daughter; just a few days old, and yet already the victim of so much danger and hate. "It'll be fine qiānjīn, we'll be fine." _

_She looks over her shoulder again and-_

-fell headfirst into reality. Skye coughed heavily, blinking in an attempt to rid her vision of the black spots that swam in and out of her vision. She felt rather than saw the presence of her father somewhere near her head, staring down at her with no small amount of concern and intrigue.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and she swore she heard honest-to-god alarm in his voice.

He knelt down beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off immediately and gasped, "what the hell was that? What did you do?"

He sat back on his heels. "I have no idea what you're tal-"

"Jiang. Was that my mother's name?"

His eyes widened. "You can't know that…" he trails off in an incredulous voice.

She didn't answer, instead shaking her head and hoisting herself back up to her feet. She stormed away, determined to put as much distance between her and her lying, selfish, _bastard_ of a father.

"Skye!" he called from behind her.

"Leave me_ alone_," she growled, turning around to face him and-

_-she was looking behind her shoulder, and so didn't see the danger in front of her until her body slams into one much harder and larger than her own, and is immediately tangled in a web of arms. She screams- or tries to, at least- as she is dragged down one of the narrow side streets. And she's struggling as much as she dares because it can't end like this- it just can't. But then she hears a sound that threatens to tear her in two, except for the fact that it already feels like it's happened, because someone rips her child from her arms and she hears her baby start to scream in the stranger's arms. _

_She's pretty sure she's screaming herself, but can't really hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears and yells from the men themselves. She thrashes in her captor's hands like she's being electrocuted, but can't break past the wall of strength. _

_She screams for her baby girl. _

_She screams for someone- anyone to help. _

_Then finally, she allows herself to scream for the man she loves-_

-"Siren" she gasped. She was vaguely aware that her father's hands around her shoulders were the only thing's holding her up, but chose to ignore it. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "That's what she called you."

The look on his face was one of total wonder- and perhaps a sense of intrigue that in any other situation would send alarm bells ringing in Skye's head. "Siren," he repeated, "Ren. Only your mother knew that name." He looked down at her. "Skye, what are you seeing?" He shook her slightly. "_What are you seeing_?"

_-she feels hands press hard into her skin, and distantly registers the pain, but doesn't give herself into it. Instead she focuses on the small details. She knows there's no way she's getting out of this with her life, but God, will she fight for that of her daughter's. She doesn't know the men holding her, but certainly they're not from this small village where she grew up, nor does she think they're from any area close by. But it doesn't matter who they are; they're just collectively known to her as the enemy. Someone to fight. _

_And fight she does, clawing at them with her nails, kicking, flailing, even resorting so far as to bite the hands restraining her. She thinks she lands a punch or two, but overall it has no difference. There's always one more to take their place. And all this time the distance between her and her daughter is increasing, and the hopelessness of the situation is smothering her in one overwhelming panic-driven wave. _

_She knows tears are streaming down her cheeks, but she can't feel them. Can't really feel anything anymore. It's all just too much, far too much, for her mind to comprehend anymore. But all the same she fights against the panic blinding her vision, because she can't leave her baby girl in the hands of these monsters. She can't she can't she can't. _

_But then there's a terrible pain from her stomach-a horrible, stabbing pain- that simultaneously burns and freezes its way through her shock. It's funny, because even as the darkness burns itself through her and she feels herself falling to the ground, it's almost like she's floating. _

_She doesn't have the strength to do anything anymore and god, is that the worst thing in the world. There's a terror and intangible sadness rising from the corner of her mind, and at any second it'll overwhelm her and sweep her away like a tidal wave, leaving her body battered and bruised against the rocks. When that moment comes, that's when she'll beg for the death she knows is hovering around the corner._

_They've probably already killed her daughter already. Left her tiny body bleeding out on the ground the way she knows is happening to her own. _

_She sees something right before she loses her mind completely, and it's something that collectively relates her attackers under one resolved persona. It's right there; printed proud and bold on their jackets and gear. It's there when darkness finally prevails, branded on the back of her eyelids. _

_The people that are responsible for the loss of her daughter. _

_An eagle. With the printed letters SHIELD underneath. _

_The one's responsible for everything._

-Skye was in a full blown panic attack, unable to do anything more than take in short, rasping breaths that do absolutely nothing to ease the tightness in her chest and fluttering of her heart.

It's not true. Nope. Not possible.

SHIELD wouldn't. It's her home, her job, her family. It wouldn't

She didn't want to say it, didn't want to put into words the horror she'd just witnessed. But her father- Siren, she now knew- was relentless. And maybe a part of her wanted to share it, if just to convince herself of the impossibility of it all. It's not true. She refuses to believe it.

"The village didn't kill her," she gasped, staring wildly around her, not really focusing on anything anymore. "SHIELD did. They- they- SHIELD did it."

And it's then, in the ashes of the village that held so many secrets, that Skye allowed sobs to wrack through her body.

* * *

**sooooo, thanks for reading! You guys are truly awesome for sticking with this for so long.**

**Oh yeah, and if you're confused about that small piece in the middle... well, good I guess. It's supposed to be...**

**THANK YOU! **

**-F**


	18. Chapter 18

**Howdy hooligans. **

**Sooo... I've posted a new story, called Shaken, if you want to check it out :) Basically, it's my way of dealing with the mid-season finale. At the moment it's only one chapter focusing on Bobbi and Hunter but I'm hoping to expand on it soon. So if you want to check that out, it'd be great :)**

**Anyways... Thank you so much for all your continued support! Your reviews and follows are absolutely amazing. Thank you, and hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**...**

_Chapter eighteen_

_The Playground. Unknown Location. _

There weren't many times when Ward had felt useless. In any other situation in his life, he'd be in the centre of the action, giving advice or devising strategies like any good soldier. Now though, he spent most of his time alone on the Bus, which had been quickly abandoned once they'd landed in the Playground in favour of the more advanced technology the facility offered. Unlike the others, Ward had ghosts to hide from at this place, namely the identical-in-every-way brother of the man he'd killed three months ago. Instead he'd spent the past three days in isolation, getting updates from Trip every few hours- updates the began and ended the same way: they had no leads.

And so for hours on end he lay on the floor in Skye's bunk, staring at the ceiling and wishing that just saying her name repeatedly would somehow provide the answers.

He'd continued for this for three days before someone interrupted his solitude.

He was suspecting Trip, since Fitzsimmons hadn't yet perfected the art of actively seeking out his presence. Koenig was way out of the equation, which suited perfectly well with Ward since he had no real intention of spending time with the brother of one of his victims. May was unlikely too, considering according to Trip she'd spent the past three days interrogating the brainwashed-Coulson.

Which was why the last person he expected was the man himself.

Ward would've liked to say he handled the appearance of a man- who the last time he'd seen had practically been a walking zombie- with all the professionalism and grace one would expect from a specialist who'd been in the job as long as he'd been. Fortunately for Ward, no one else was there to witness him swear loudly before scanning the room for the heaviest thing he could use for a weapon.

But then he caught sight of the Director's appearance, and all thoughts of fight flew out of his head. Quite honestly, Coulson looked like one of those people you saw on the streets sometimes who'd obviously had _way_ to good a time the night before. He was fidgeting, his eyes sweeping over the room and drumming his fingers against the wall he was leaning against.

Ward watched on silently, internally realizing that he'd never actually seen this man so unhinged before. Even in the face of situations which would've sent most people running for the hills, he'd always been calm and collected to a fault. Ward supposed that's why he'd risen so fast in SHIELD's ranks. His composure was practically legendary.

Until now, he guessed. Coulson had never faced something like this.

"I'm surprised May let you out of her sight," Ward said cautiously, not yet eager to enter a confrontation with a man with a questionable state of mind.

"She didn't want to," Coulson answered, "but we needed to confirm a flight plan with Koenig.

Ward blinked, forcing himself not to focus on the small surge of hope that they'd suddenly had a lead in the search for Skye that had risen at his words. It would've been too good to believe. Instead he asked, "a lead?"

Coulson gave a noncommittal shrug. "Someone that can help, at least."

Ward wondered who this person that had the ability to create such a worried look in Coulson's eyes.

Silence fell over the two, before Coulson pushed himself off the wall and walked further into the room. Ward watched his eyes slide over Skye's things, taking in the random piles of clothes and photos of the team tacked to the wall above her bed. It was fitting, Ward supposed, that Skye's room reflected her so entirely. It was a jumble of life; chaotic and disorganized, but inviting all the same. At the moment it was about as close to her as they all could get.

"When I first bought you back on the Bus," Coulson said suddenly, startling Ward out of his reverie, "it was because I thought you would do anything to help Skye. I knew the risk you posed to everyone, but I did it anyway. It was selfish… bringing you back here, I knew the effect it would have on the rest of the team but honestly, Ward? I didn't care. All I could think about was keeping her safe. And now…" he took in a shuddering breath. "Now I've hurt her more than anyone else. I'm the reason this happened."

There were a thousand things Ward could've said. He couldn't deny the fact that Coulson's situation had had a major impact in Skye's father's ability to find her, but that didn't mean that he blamed Coulson at all. He was a victim in this just as much as the rest of them- more so, considering the fact that he'd been brought back to life just for some creepy alien dude to mess with his head.

Yes, there were a thousand things Ward could've said to console his former boss. But he'd never really been one for reassurances. He just got the job done.

Coulson nodded, as if reading Ward's train of thought, and shoved his hand into the back of his pocket. Ward started, ready to act on a moment's notice if Coulson's alter ego decided to make an appearance. But the Director merely gave a wan smile and said, "don't worry, I give you full permission to knock me out again if anything happens. In fact," he extended his hand and shoved a gun into Ward's hands, "I want you to use this. If anything happens."

It was all Ward could do not to drop the weapon in shock, because the feeling of a loaded gun in his hands was so completely unfamiliar after more than three months that he'd all but forgotten the rush that came with it. Not to mention he'd fully been expecting the shock from his bracelet to race through his body the second it came into contact with his hands- a shock that never came. He looked up at Coulson with wide eyes.

"I reprogrammed your bracelet to allow for this one weapon," the agent explained.

"It's loaded with real bullets," Ward said slowly, recognizing the familiar weight in his hands.

Coulson nodded. "Just one bullet, I trust that'll be enough."

Ward looked up, his eyebrows furrowed. "Sir?"

Coulson's face was perfectly neutral. "I want you to use it- on me- if anything happens. _Anything_, Ward. I can't ask May or one of the others, they wouldn't be able to do it. But you," he gestured slightly towards Ward, "the one thing I know about you is your capability to make the hard decisions."

Ward didn't bother say otherwise; he'd been making impossible decisions his whole life. But this… being handed the gun by the man begging Ward to shoot him… even he doubted his ability. All Ward could think of was how Skye would never forgive him. He'd lost belief in his capability for redemption a long time ago.

Coulson stepped closer to Ward, his eyes intent with a crazed desperation. "This is for Skye. _Everything _is for Skye. So if you use this gun for any reason but what I've told you- if you hurt anyone else- I won't just kill you. I'll _end_ you, Ward, understood?"

Ward was too numb to feel himself nod.

"Good. I suggest you hide that before May returns. And buckle up. It takes five hours to get to Turkey, and something tells me May's perfectly prepared to take shortcuts."

* * *

_Hunan Province, China. _

After the tears had come the sudden, inexplicable silence, because in the end there were no more words to say.

They were back at the house now, Skye in the room where she'd first woken up. Only now it was late evening and, in the place of the natural light that had flowed in that morning, the lamps throughout the room had been lit, giving it a soft, inviting glow.

Her father had left her alone for the remainder of the day, excusing himself quickly with a look in his eyes that told her just how much the weight of their recent discovery had affected him. Skye didn't mind; she needed time to get her head sorted.

She couldn't focus on the reason why she's seen those memories back in the village; that was just too weird, and her father wasn't exactly giving her any answers. Instead, she focused on the one surge of hope that had come to her soon after she'd sobbed like a damn baby in her father's arms: they could've been Hydra agents. They might not have even been acting under SHIELD's orders at all.

It certainly seemed plausible, considering the other SHIELD team had found her in a dead operative's arms, which meant that perhaps somewhere along the line there'd been a firefight and someone had rescued her from Hydra's clutches. But then- surely- there'd have been record of that in SHIELD's archives. Someone must've known, whether it be Fury or Hill… anyone. But SHIELD was built on secrets, after all. Or had been before Coulson was Director, at any rate. The new one, with Coulson's compromised mind, was likely just as bad.

Skye didn't know, could barely think anymore. Ever since the long walk back from the village, she'd had a pounding headache that beat in time with her heartbeat; a synchronized drum of pain that combined with an intense exhaustion had left her feeling numb and incapable of the intense thinking she'd have to do to make sense of what she'd just learnt.

She couldn't think, but the feel of her phone in her hands was simple enough.

The line of thought behind it, however… she couldn't make any sense of it.

Her father had given it to her, pressed its familiar shape into her hands right before he'd left her in her room. He'd been casual enough about it but the ramifications behind it were loaded. With her phone, Skye could call the team. She could tell them where she was- which she'd learnt with the recent excursion to the village. She could _leave_.

And her father was letting her do it.

She just couldn't follow his reasoning. Her father- she couldn't call him Siren, the name her mother had given him, let alone _dad_\- had spent months, come up with a wildly intricate plan, just to get her back. And now? Now he wasn't only letting her leave through the front door, he was giving her the key.

Or her phone, which at the moment were one in the same.

"Be smart, Skye," he'd said in a low voice as he pressed the device into her hands, "your mother ran from them for a reason." The light from the fire flickered manically in his dark eyes. "Think about that before you so freely return to them."

And no matter how hard Skye tried, no matter how hard she tried to picture the relieved faces of her friends as they found her, she couldn't get his words out of her head.

Coulson and the others didn't know about her mother- of that she was dead certain. There was no way in hell they would keep that from her, and to even consider it made the idea seem so preposterous that she instantly dismissed it. But that didn't mean that someone in SHIELD- the agency she had so much faith in (minus the whole Hydra thing, of course)- knew something. And that in itself was where the problem lay.

Skye had worked for a lot of people in her life; the Rising Tide, SHIELD and whatever SHIELD had become under Coulson's keen eye, and every one had been so extremely different from the other. She'd joined the Rising Tide because they exposed the secrets to the public which deserved to be known- sometimes, admittedly, with less than legal methods. With SHIELD she'd learnt the value of keeping those secrets hidden for the protection of others. The whole 'what people don't know can't hurt them' explanation. But that didn't necessarily mean she wholeheartedly agreed with it.

Skye knew when to keep a secret, but she also knew the effect it could have. She'd worked with SHIELD long enough to hear stories; met agents who were so deep into their covers that they were practically incapable of having any sort of relationship that was built on a semblance of trust.

She knew that while secrets could tie you together in the tightest of embraces, the string could turn into barbed wire at a seconds notice. It was one of the very few things she regretted about her sudden change in lifestyle.

All the same, Skye had anticipated this tactic from her father: trying to turn her back on the team and cut all strings. But using the death of her mother seemed like an exceptionally cruel way of achieving it, something that had made her quite resentful and cautious of her father.

She was being played, and she'd promised herself all those months ago after Ward that she'd never let herself fall into someone else's intricately-woven trap of lies.

So no- if she was getting out of this, she was doing it herself. Her way.

Skye fingered the phone in her hands, turning it over several times. "I'm sorry," she muttered in a low voice, although she was unsure who she was actually apologizing to. Her mother, for not being given the opportunity to raise her daughter like she should've? The team? Ward? She didn't know the answer to that either, but she'd figure it out. She had to.

So instead of calling the people she desperately wanted to hear more than anything in the world, she took apart the phone, snapping the Sim card in two, before smashing the remainder against the wall.

It wasn't a give-in to her father, she thought with a wry smile.

On the contrary, after feeling the complete pain of her mother dying and mourning her loss, Skye was taking charge.

* * *

_Sultan Ahmed Mosque. Istanbul, Turkey. _

_(Two Days Later.)_

The Blue Mosque had to be one of Coulson's most favorite places in the world. It's other name, the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, held as much history as the iconic domed building itself, but personally he loved its simpler name. It was more fitting, he reasoned, for it to be named after one of its defining characteristics. And certainly, as he stood underneath the glowing lights, staring up at the intricately blue-tiled walls and ceiling, the name had never seemed more fitting.

Coulson, May and Ward had spent the past two days in Istanbul, scoping out the meeting place and searching for anything out of the ordinary. They hadn't found anything, but today was different, even if no one else could feel it in the air, because today was the meet.

There was always the possibility of his contact not showing up, but Coulson had dismissed that thought pretty early on, arguing that curiosity would win over in this situation. Instead, he'd found himself arguing with May constantly to let him be alone on the ground with her and Ward on the Bus as backup. She hadn't been too fond of the idea, especially when she'd learnt of who Coulson would be seeing, but he'd reasoned that it was those same identities that made this a particularly cautious meeting. She hadn't liked his reasoning, frowning and crossing her arms. But even she couldn't argue the potential of this contact in finding Skye- Skye, who had been kidnapped almost a week ago.

May had rarely left his side in those past few days, worry and caution keeping her constantly on guard. He was grateful of course but strangely it was Ward, with the gun he'd provided tucked in his pocket, a single bullet with Coulson's name all but written on it, who gave him the most comfort.

Because no matter how much May believed, there was something different since Skye's father had left his mind. It wasn't obvious, like a sudden change in his personality or raging emotions. It was more like a cloud hanging over his head; its effect wasn't large but still gave the sense of a prevailing storm. He was a ticking time bomb, which was why he'd taken the precautions with Ward.

But he wouldn't focus on that now. He had to help Skye. He had to do his job.

There was still about ten minutes until the prearranged time for the meet, but Coulson knew his contact would be here already, if only out of a lifelong habit for scoping out the area before engaging in an unknown situation. As casually as possible, he bought his phone from his back pocket and snapped three successive photos, letting the flash from the camera illuminate the space in front of him. He caught the pointed glance from the nearby security guard and smiled apologetically and returned the phone to his pocket. Flash photography was prohibited in the mosque, but it served its purpose. As a subtle enough gesture, it broadcasted his position to only those who were watching.

He didn't have to wait long.

"You look pretty good for a dead man," came a hard voice from behind him.

Coulson turned and, despite the racing of his heart, couldn't hold back a smile at the intimidating figure of the Black Widow, her striking red hair hidden underneath a dark head-covering.

He forced a smile. "Good skin care."

She didn't return the smile, instead flicking her gaze up and down his figure as if searching for some explanation for the impossible; some imperfection which would show it was all just a trick. Because- surely- after over a year, this couldn't possibly be real.

"So it was all a lie?" she asked, her voice cold, her green eyes unreadable behind every wall he knew Natasha Romanoff had. She was on the defensive. Of course she was.

He stared at her. "Do you think I'd do that, Natasha?" he asked, "do you really think I'd do that to all of you?"

She blinked, her eyes luminous in the soft darkness. "I don't know anymore, Coulson. I've been proved wrong about a lot of people lately."

"I didn't have many choices, but for the ones I did make I'm sorry."

Natasha crossed her arms. "I guess you didn't send that message just to apologize, Coulson. Over a year and now you decide to come back. You need something. What."

He resisted the urge to flinch at her cold tone, never having heard it directed at him for many years; ever since Barton had first bought her to SHIELD and she was just as likely to slit the throat of the next man she saw as blinking.

It was the truth, though. If it wasn't for the situation with Skye, would he have even been driven to seek out the help of his ex-team? Situations changed, Coulson knew, and he'd always believed that at some point he'd reveal his status to the Avengers. But not like this; not under these circumstances. They deserved better than that… better than this.

So it was with a thick voice that Coulson answered, "I need your help, Romanoff."

Her head tilted, and she surveyed him with a razor-sharp gaze. "You have ten minutes before the agents that've been tailing me catch up."

Coulson looked around, alarmed. "You're being tailed?"

She gave a thin smile. "For the past few months, can't seem to shake 'em off. Hydra, feds, even some ex-KGB now that all my covers have been blown. Guess no one really wants an assassin with no allegiance running around."

"I have a plane."

"You need an army."

"I have Melinda May," he shrugged, "that's all I'll need."

He thought he saw a ghost of a smile grace her face. "May's with you? Do I want to know how you managed that?"

A smile tugged at his lips. "Not really. Though she'll probably be happy to explain if you come."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You've always had a choice, Natasha," Coulson said, his voice laced with memories.

She chuckled. "Well, it's not much of a choice when the other option is imprisonment or torture so…" She looked down casually at her watch. "There's about six minutes left, and it's going to take you a lot longer to explain everything, Coulson. That plane better be damn close."

* * *

**Woohoo! Natasha's here! I've been waiting to add her in for aaages... just 'cos she's amazing :p Anyway, I really did want to add in an Avenger, and she seemed like the best character that would fit in (Barton's situation will be explained in the next chapter btw :) but such a dynamic character is quite hard to write, so let me know what you think! Next chapter is purely gonna be on a much-needed conversation between her and Coulson, I reckon.**

**The Blue Mosque is an absolutely amazing building in Istanbul, you guys should really check it out. Honestly one of my favorite architectural pieces. **

**Oh, and Merry Christmas everyone!**

**-F**


	19. Chapter 19

**Woohoo! Happy 2015 hooligans! Hope you all had a great time celebrating the end of a very long year. I did. With a lot of food and an anti-climatic midnight with NCIS LA :) Quite fun really. **

**So, thank you again for all your continuing support. Have I told you lately what amazing people you all are? **

**To the amazing guest reviewer, Giulia, I wish I could reply to you properly, because your review meant so much! Honestly, it was an absolutely amazing thing to read and I just want to thank you so so so much. I hope the rest of the story has lived up to your expectations :) **

**Anyways, quite a short chapter for this one, but I figured Natasha Romanoff deserved her own chapter 'cos, I mean seriously, Black Widow. Definitely. But trust me, next few chapters are heating up a bit so stick around... :) **

_Chapter nineteen:_

_The Bus. Around two hours after Istanbul. _

Natasha Romanoff prided herself in her ability to adapt fast; it was essential in this line of business. If the tides suddenly changed in the middle of a fight, if a friend didn't have your back quite like how you expected; then only the quickest of decisions could save you. It was one of the few reasons she had excelled under the Red Room training. That and her dogged determination to cling to life.

It didn't necessarily mean that she didn't get surprised though, and this was definitely qualified as a time when she was. Don't get her wrong, Natasha had spent days after the Battle of New York convinced that Coulson would return, his suit and tie as intact as the first day she'd ever seen him. But as days turned into months, SHIELD fell and Hydra rose out of its ashes like a bizarre, multi-headed phoenix, she'd given up. Like the rest of the world, Phil Coulson became to her nothing more than a fond memory. She accepted it, and moved on.

Why did she accept it? Because she adapted fast.

But Natasha had to admit, this had thrown her off a little bit. And so she'd done what she always did when she lost her bearings: retreated to somewhere isolated and gathered her frantic thoughts. In this case, it appeared to be a lab in the bowels of the plane.

May- after the two had reunited with a surprising display of affection- had explained that this area was usually occupied by two young British scientists referred to collectively as Fitzsimmons which, according to May, made perfect sense when you met them.

It had taken her a while to work her way around the lab; enough time to find a needle and sutures and everything she'd need. No anesthetic though, she supposed that was with the other chemicals somewhere slightly more secure. No matter, in her time she'd bound so many wounds with no painkillers that it was almost second nature.

Pulling up her top slightly, she exposed the wound just above her hip where a bullet had skimmed her side slightly a few days before. Fortunately, it was nothing more than a surface wound (which the unfortunate agent that had shot her couldn't exactly claim) but she'd been constantly on the move for the past few days, and so was unable to deal with it any more than plastering it with bandages and hoping against infection.

Now though, Natasha couldn't hold back a low hiss as she peeled away a makeshift bandage, the dried blood sticking to the fabric and tearing up her wound anew.

She felt, rather than heard, a shift in the air behind her that signaled another's presence, and stiffened. "I don't need help, Coulson," she said quietly.

He walked around to her front, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "I didn't really have much choice. May kicked me out of the cockpit."

She snorted. "From what I've seen this is a massive plane- plenty of other places you could hide away in."

He winced obvious brush-off in her voice, but didn't make one move away like she'd been aiming for. He'd known Natasha for long enough to know when she was struggling to keep her distance from everything- and everyone. He grabbed a bandage and doused it in antiseptic solution. "She might have implied some not-too-subtle threats."

He passed her the bandage, knowing full well that he was pushing things just by being this close. With things the way they were between them at the moment, she'd never accept his help if she was bleeding out on the floor. She snatched it out of his hands, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, and that's when he noticed the necklace hanging around her neck; a silver arrow on a fine chain that glinted in the harsh light of the lab.

"Did Barton give you that?" Coulson asked.

He received a glare in response, one that in the past had sent hardened criminals running for cover.

All things considered, it was quite a tell.

Because people had questioned the relationship between Romanoff and Barton for years; it had become the topic of much debate at the Academies. But those rare people that actually had the courage to question either of them suddenly found themselves in the medical bay in various states of consciousness and Barton and Romanoff It was something which remained solely between the two illusive agents.

Coulson had his own suspicious though, and a necklace like this, one that so clearly screamed _Hawkeye_ and yet was worn with such reverence around her neck, seemed almost intimate.

All the same, her response seemed odd; almost as if she there was more to the story, as if there were more reasons behind her anger.

As if she knew something he didn't.

"Where is he, Natasha?"

Coulson knew he'd hit it the second her name left his lips. Her face fell into a cold mask; face devoid of all emotion, eyes expressionless. It was only her death grip on the bench that let him know just how truly personal this was. "I don't know," she said in a low voice, "He was on a mission in Serbia when SHIELD fell and… he hasn't made contact with anyone since. He was ruled KIA." She looked down, letting strands of her hair fall across her face in a red curtain.

Coulson took an unsteady step backwards. "That was four months ago," he said breathlessly.

She shrugged again, feigning some sense of calm. "Like I said. KIA."

"You're looking for him." It wasn't a question. When it came to Barton it never really was.

She smiled bitterly. "It's a surprisingly hard thing to do when even SHIELD doesn't have your back. Stark had some connections," -she grimaced, as if having to rely on Tony Stark for anything was a sin against nature- "and I pulled in a lot of favors from people I never thought I'd see again, which is probably the only reason I'm still alive. I figured Barton would have people after him too, which was he didn't make contact with anyone. But…" her voice trailed off, but he knew how the rest of the story went.

"And when you heard the message I'd sent on the secure line we made, you thought it was from him; that he'd managed to get away."

"You got my hopes up, Coulson. Up until about two hours ago he was the only other one that knew about that signal."

Coulson handed her another bandage, this one designed to bind together the wounds and hopefully minimize any scarring. Not that Natasha had ever really worried about that sort of thing. She gingerly placed it against her side and pulled her shirt back into place.

Silence fell between them.

"He could've been Hydra," he said suddenly.

She raised her eyebrows. "You don't believe that," she said coolly.

"He could be dead."

She looked up at him sharply, trying to gauge his seriousness from his face. "You don't believe that, either," she whispered and Coulson had to bite back a rush of overwhelming emotion, because no matter what anyone told him she was right; he wouldn't accept the death of one of the few people he could call a friend without sufficient proof.

Sufficient proof amounted to a lot in this business.

It's what ruled in the absence-or sometimes, excess- of emotions. Proof, cold-hearted, definite proof, couldn't be argued with. It snuffed out all arguments (and hope) like a candle in the darkness. It was also the one thing they were lacking in this situation.

So until further notice, Clint Barton to them both was simply an arrogantly-rogue agent taking drastic measures to protect himself.

The realization must've been obvious on his face, because Natasha nodded once, as if satisfied, and in one graceful move slid off the bench and past him.

She froze in the doorway, and turned back, her eyes dancing with emotion. "No," she said, shaking her head. "You know what? No. You know why I'm here now, so why are you?" Her eyes were boring holes in his head; the intensity, the fire, everything that made her _Natasha Romanoff_ shining just behind the surface. "Where were you, Coulson? And don't give me some crap excuse about Fury's orders. Where were you when Barton was drunk off his ass because he blamed himself for your death? Where were you when the Council tried to nail him for crimes against the nation? We mourned you, we went to your damn funeral; all of us. So where. Were. You?"

A part of her mind knew there must've been a perfectly reasonable explanation; Coulson wasn't the man to just up and leave the people he'd grown so close to, the life he'd worked so hard to achieve. But at the moment, running on restless energy and a questionable state of mind, that reasonable explanation seemed like a damn hard thing to imagine. This kind of thing was exactly what Natasha had been trained not to feel, but exactly what she'd found herself feeling whenever the people closest to her were threatened.

Sometimes she wondered if she'd been better off before.

"There's nothing I can say that will make this better, Natasha," Coulson said solemnly.

"That wasn't what I asked."

"No matter what I'll say it won't change anything; won't excuse what I did."

"That wasn't an answer either."

"You're not listening to me, Romanoff," Coulson insisted, "it's because there isn't an answer. I don't know if I didn't tell you I was alive because of Fury's orders or some other… deeper reason that even now I don't fully understand."

Natasha was relentless. "The Phil Coulson I knew wouldn't have given up that easily."

"The man you knew was killed on a Helicarrier by an Asgardian god. Now? Now I'm dealing with yet another psychopath with mind-controlling abilities. Only this time to top it off he's kidnapped his daughter, who just happens to be one of my team. To say things are different is the understatement of the century."

Natasha blinked, and the emotion cleared from her eyes in an instant, the tension that had seemed to thrum through her body falling away. "So that's why you sent that message," she clarified, "Your girl- that agent- you need me to get her back?"

Coulson breathed out deeply through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. Sometimes he forgot just how good she was at getting information. Over ten years and she was still surprising him. "It's not that easy," he explained, playing along with the drastically different conversation. "Skye's father's is one tricky son of a bitch with countless tricks up his sleeves. But… I have my own scores to settle with him."

_That_ was the understatement of the century.

Natasha pulled a face. "Your plans are terrible. Budapest. Remember?"

"Not one you're likely to let me forget. Me or Barton."

"You're finally catching on."

* * *

**So, sorry again for the small chapter. And I'm really not sure about how I'm showing Natasha's character in this, so just let me know if you have any suggestions, anything you think would be great to know :)**

**But regardless, thank you so much for reading!**

**-F**


	20. Chapter 20

**Wow guys, thank you so much for your continued support! It makes this so much more fun for me so, honestly, thanks! Your reviews and follows mean the world. **

**You know, I actually think this is the quickest I've put out a chapter... whoah. But this was actually quite fun to write. Hope you see why :p**

**...**

_Chapter twenty_

Trip knew he was good at keeping a straight face; keeping his emotions hidden. The ability to cover your fear and hesitation behind a mask of confidence was a skill practically as important as being able to fire a gun. Surprisingly, it'd also come in useful when Skye had challenged him to a marathon of horror movies without flinching- honestly, it'd been harder to hide his amusement when the demon woman appeared atop the wardrobe in the Conjuring had made Skye jump so hard she'd almost fallen off the couch.

But now? He couldn't wipe the surprised grin off his face as Coulson, May and Ward returned to the Playground after two days.

With someone else in tow, nonetheless.

Fitzsimmons stood beside him, in equal states of disbelief.

"Is that who I think it is?" Trip breathed.

Fitz had a slightly loopy grin on his face, but it was Simmons who answered. "Agent Romanoff, also known as Black Widow; former Level 5. Responsible in part for the victory in New York and the defeat of Hydra at the Triskelion-"

Fitz piped up. "Yeah, I heard she infiltrated the World Security Council, leaked all of Hydra's info on the net and took out Secretary Pierce by herself." He gave a breathy laugh before saying a little dreamily, "she's amazing."

Trip looked down at him in amusement. "Yeah, I know who Natasha Romanoff is. Coulson was her and Hawkeye's handler, wasn't he?"

Simmons nodded. "Before the Avengers Initiative," she sighed, her eyes taking on a haunted look that Trip had seen far too much of in the past few days. "If only Skye was here, she'd be over the moon right now."

The others were within earshot now and Coulson gave them all a small smile in greeting. "And that's exactly why we bought in reinforcements. I don't think I need to tell you who this is," he said, gesturing to the redhead at his side. "But Nat, this is our tech analysts, Fitzsimmons and our field specialist, Agent Triplet."

Romanoff smiled at each of them in turn, looking perfectly at ease in the otherwise potentially uncomfortable environment. She studied her surroundings with a practiced eye. "This another one of Fury's bases?" she asked, directing the question towards Fitzsimmons.

There was a beat of silence, in which Simmons and the others watched with amusement as Fitz's mouth gaped open and shut, resembling something like a goldfish out of the water- a perfectly logical comparison really, Trip thought with no small amount of amusement, considering Fitz probably had no idea whatsoever in how to deal with a deadly agent like Romanoff.

In the end, it was Coulson who intervened, a smile gracing his lips as he answered, "something like that. Actually, where is Koen-"

A disgruntled voice made its way down the hallway. "Hold it! Hold it right there! If that's who I think it is then she has _not_ passed initiation and someone needs to come up with another idea for how she's actually going to complete that when, from what I've heard, interrogations aren't exactly an available method."

Coulson turned to Natasha, chuckling at her raised eyebrows. "He grows on you." He turned to the rest of them. "Now, let's get our girl back, shall we?"

* * *

Skye was jerked awake by a hand shaking her shoulder. She snapped awake, grabbing and twisting it before throwing a punch in the general direction of her attacker, feeling it crack against something solid. Her eyes slammed open, and she blinked in the darkness of the room.

Huh. Maybe her trainings would actually pay out in this situation after all.

She plasters an innocent look on her face and smiles up sweetly at her father. "Wanna tell me why you're waking me up before the sun is?"

There's no small amount of frustration behind her statement, but all the same she's playing. She's testing her boundaries, something Skye's always been admittedly good at. Her father hasn't snapped yet, so she hasn't stopped yet. Simple as that.

But tonight it took her a heartbeat to realise something's different.

Her father didn't respond to her dig, instead dragging her by her forearm out from under the blankets and to the door, with nothing more than a terse "come with me". Skye straggled behind slightly, stumbling as she attempted to catch up with his fast pace. His grip was hard around her wrist, ensuring that tomorrow she's going to have some pretty colorful bruises to for it.

She cursed as her father whipped around another corner, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. "The hell?" she asked again. "What's going on?"

He slammed through a door, and Skye couldn't remember the house ever being this big. Over the past few days she'd been making her way through the veritable mansion, mapping it out in her mind and figuring out all the possible exits, but now, in the pitch darkness, everything seemed impossibly different. "I'm sorry, Skye," he said in a voice which didn't quite carry his sincerity, "I've tried everything, but things are out of my control."

"What isn't? You haven't _told_ me anything." There's anger in her tone, but fear too. Fear at the wild look she'd seen in her father's eyes, at the rate he's pulling her along like a ragdoll. And she hates herself for it.

He turned to face her then. "I would've," he said quietly, "I would've given you all the time in the world. I am a powerful man, Skye, but I'm not the only force in play here; I don't have control of what's coming."

He turned again and pushed open a door to his right, tugging her into a room Skye had never laid eyes on before. It was dark, no windows but a door leading to God knows where to the left, illuminated by only a few lamps which cast a dismal, flickering light on the pale walls. It was decorated like a study, with a table and chair in the centre of the room and papers strewn everywhere: plastering the desk, the walls… everything. Maps, photos, diagrams, notes; Skye took it all in with wide eyes. It reminded her slightly of a madman's lair, and that was a comparison she did not like to think about.

Her father grabbed her wrist again and pushed her down into the chair, immediately snapping cuffs on her hands and ankles to keep her still. She rattled the chains loudly, staring up at her father with a glare Melinda May herself would've been proud of. Internally, though, she was beaming. She'd taught herself- very painstakingly, Skye might add- to get out of handcuffs given enough time.

But, as her father backed away and exited out of the door to her left, she found it wasn't time that was working against her, but rather her own betraying body. She could picture herself doing it, but it was like the thought couldn't extend past her mind, as if fear and anger and the whole range of emotions she was feeling at that moment had made the strongest of barriers.

It was in that moment that Skye truly began to panic. She could deal with pain or loss or whatever her father threw at her, as long as she had a chance to fight back. Take that away and she was reduced to nothing but the emotions she'd desperately tried to suppress.

She strained at her restraints, but succeeded in nothing more than a sharp pain as they bit into her skin. "Come on, come on, come _on_," she muttered.

Her movements froze when her father reappeared.

But he wasn't alone.

God, he wasn't alone.

Two figured followed in his wake, but because of the lack of light in the room it was only when they were standing a few feet away from her that Skye could make our their features; a boy and girl, young… maybe late twenties… Chinese, probably married. Their faces were gentle, relaxed, perfectly at ease in what Skye perceived was an environment of anything but.

In all honesty, they looked drugged.

But Skye knew it was so much worse.

She'd seen faces like theirs before; Coulson's for weeks on end when he sleepwalked all around the place, on Trip's when he'd pointed a loaded weapon at Simmons. It was the look of someone else being behind the metaphorical reins of your mind, and unfortunately, she knew exactly had control.

Skye was horrified. As far as she was concerned, her father could do whatever he wanted with regards to her, but that was because she was involved. She played a part. But this? Bringing in two others who had no idea the danger they were in? Who were completely innocent? It crossed whatever boundaries they'd mutually established. It went against everything

And maybe that scared her the most. She'd heard stories about prisoners who started sympathizing with their captors, but she'd been focusing so much on that fact that she wasn't really imprisoned, that she'd failed to notice her opinion of her father changing too. In the light of what she'd learnt about her mother she'd brushed off everything he'd done, all the people he'd killed or hurt, the things he was capable of.

"Let. Them. Go," she said in a low voice- she surprised herself at the amount of venom in her words. "They're innocent, they have nothing to do with this, so leave them out of this."

He stared at her, his eyes filled with some unnamable emotion, and when he spoke his words aghast. "They have everything to do with this, Skye. Do you think if they knew who you were," he pointed at her chest, "if they knew what you really were inside, that they'd show you mercy?" He shook his head in disbelief. "What's the first rule of genetics? The species with the best adaptations will survive; the arrival of more sophisticated genes means the extinction of the old, but that doesn't mean that they," he gestured towards the man and woman, "don't fight against it. The Earth has changed, Skye, and so has the human race. But there are others like you and me, Skye; Inhumans, the ones best suited to this planet, the ones who deserve to rule it! But we're being smoked out and hunted like rats!"

His breathing was rapid; his eyes wild, like a predator caught in the middle of a fight.

And for the first time, Skye wondered if he was truly, truly mad.

She sat frozen, every bone held ridged. The air in the room was so thick with tension that Skye felt that one move would bring everything tumbling down around her. And she had to get the two others out of the way before that happened. "In my experience," she said in a low voice, "when someone says they deserve to rule the world, it never really works out well."

"You wanted answers," he spread his arms out wide, "this is your answer. Hydra, SHIELD, they're all out to control us. To find out what makes us _tick_." His face contorted into a scowl.

Skye's heartbeat drummed in her ears. "SHIELD doesn't do that," she tried to say, but even to her own ears the words sounded weak; a desperate statement of someone trying to convince themselves of their sincerity.

Her father gave a loud laugh, throwing his head back. "Why do you think we're being so easily hunted now? SHIELD had an Index, did it not?"

Skye was dazed. "To monitor those with powers, people-"

"-who were a potential threat. Inhumans," he spat out the word like it was a curse, "the next stage of evolution."

It was then that a memory flitted back to Skye; of Conrad Lloyd, the madman that had set them on this path in the first place. _We are on the brink of something incredible_, he'd said, _and you and me? We get a frontline seat._

But she didn't just have a seat; she was centre stage, caught right in the middle of it all and blinded by the bright lights.

"I'm trying to give you the best possible chance, Skye. I'm trying to _save_ you." From the pocket of his jacket, her father bought out a small handgun. Skye clenched her jaw, but he didn't point it towards her. Instead, he pressed it into the hands of the Chinese man, who took it without a word of complaint and, flicking the safety off skillfully, raised to point at the head of the other woman.

For a second, no one moved and the only sound was the labored breathing coming from Skye's mouth as she sat dumbstruck staring at the hell in front of her.

Her father walked over to stand behind her, where he bent low and placed his lips close to her ear. "You see this man?" he whispered, his breath stirring her hair. Skye couldn't hold back a shiver at his close proximity. "He's about to kill the love of his life. At the moment, they both have no idea of what's going on, but they will, Skye, they will. You can stop him. If you awaken your powers."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Sir, you want to do _what_?" Koenig's incredulous tone swept through the briefing room, but Coulson had expected nothing less. His plan is wishful to say the least. Nevertheless, the shock painted on his face is as amusing as Coulson had imagined it to be.

"I want to break back into the Summit," he repeated calmly, as if storming into a facility packed with an unknown amount of hostiles was the most likely course of action.

Koenig looked around at everyone for backup, but was met with only expressionless faces. Coulson smiled; the team didn't even know his reasoning yet but they were still willing to trust his judgment when it came to Skye. And in the light of recent events, that meant more to Coulson than he could express.

"Do you know what the Summit is?" he asked the recluse agent.

Sam waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, it was one of Fury's junkyards. The stuff deemed not dangerous enough to be sent to Slingshot but important enough not to discard. But do I need to remind you that SHIELD does _not_ have control of it anymore? Hydra took control of it in the big unveiling and it's since then become a military base. It's a lions den."

Coulson nodded. "I realise that. But it's also got something we need. Something that will help us find Skye." He doesn't mention the risks involved, doesn't mention the very real possibility that this will end up just another dead end.

Trip stepped up, asking the question that everyone was thinking. "What are we looking for, sir?"

Coulson thumbed across the table, before finally bringing up the files on something he'd truly hoped never to see again in his life. He took a deep breath when he saw their shocked expressions. "Raina's machine. It helped me remember everything about TAHITI before, and I'm guessing it can help me remember everything that's been hidden for the past few months. The memories are there, I can _feel_ it, but I just can't access them. This can help me do that." He's had plenty of time to figure everything out, but there's still a hell of a lot of assumptions.

Simmons bit her lip. "But sir-"

"- I know the effect it had, Simmons, and I'm choosing to accept them." _For Skye, for the girl who'd always held such faith in him. _

He turned to Natasha. "Think you can get in?"

She frowns at the holographic image of the basement-like structure, her practices eyes taking in the lack of exits and abundance of security measures. "It's secure," is all she says.

Koenig makes a strangled cry. "_Secure_? Fury came up with the designs for the Summit himself. It's got more state-of-the-art technology than the Pentagon. Honestly, Miss Widow, calling this place secure is like saying Taylor Swift's just a country singer."

Silence.

If Skye had been there she'd be online looking for _Swiftie_ memorabilia by now.

Natasha blinked. "Pop stars aside, I've seen worse." She flicked through the information. "Getting in isn't the problem, it'll be getting the machine out considering…" she tapped the screen, "it's on the bottom floor. Isn't that typical."

Fitz piped up from where he stood beside Simmons. "The Summit was organized based on the object's severity. The more valuable an object is; the deeper it's buried, the harder you have to work to get it. Much like an inverse mountain, giving the base its name."

"Well," Natasha said, "I'd say it's time to do some digging." She turned to May. "Feel like giving me a hand?"

The other agent smiled. "Never thought you'd ask."

They left the room with barely a second glance, and Coulson was left with more hope than he'd felt in much too long a time.

* * *

**I feel like if this was the show, there'd be a massive duh duh duuuh right bout now. **

**So, that experience that Skye had with the Conjuring? Exactly what happened to me. Scared the absolute bajeezus outta me! Yeah. Bajeezus. **

**A review to let me know what you're thinking would be lovely! But thank you regardless :)**

**-F**


	21. Chapter 21

**Whoah, sorry bout the wait guys. Went to Hot Water beach for a few days (which is just as good as it sounds :p) so this chapter was a bit delayed. But thank you so much for all your thoughts regarding the story! You all have a virtual hug from me :)**

**So, I realised that the timing on these last few chapters might be a bit murky, so for the sake of argument let's say Skye was taken by her father on a Monday ('cos, naturally, everything bad happens on a Monday, right?). Then that same day, we found out Coulson was being possessed by her father too. **

**Three days later (so, Thursday) Skye wakes up, and convinces daddy dearest to release his control over the Director, who then "wakes" up and contacts Natasha later that same day. Still Thursday, Skye and her father visit the destroyed village, where Skye learnt that the people who killed her mother were SHIELD/Hydra agents. **

**Saturday: was when Coulson met Natasha in Istanbul, and flew back to the Playground, where Coulson tells them about his plan to attack the Summit and steal Raina's machine, which he hopes will help him remember anything about Skye's father and where she could possibly be. Meanwhile over in China, Skye wakes up in the middle of the night when her father tries to desperately convince her to awaken her powers. And... here we are. **

**Man, that's confusing. **

**I apologize in advance about this shortish chapter, but it was more of a filler one to get rid of some dialogue... **

...

_Chapter twenty-one_

Skye remembered once, so many years ago now that it seemed nothing more than a dream, going to the park with one of her foster fathers. She remembers being tossed into the air, laughing and screaming in equal measure, but so perfectly sure of the fact that there'd be someone to catch her, to stop that painful fall to the ground that seemed so far below. And there was that moment, right before gravity started to drag you back down to earth, when you're filled with nothing but sheer weightlessness and fear that comes with, even for just an instant, defying even the most basic laws of physics. For Skye, that was the most terrifying moment; when everything was still. It was the moment when you expected another step at the top of the staircase and instead found your foot falling through space; it was when you were tipping on a chair's back two legs and suddenly tilted a degree too far. It was panic; blind, indescribable panic, one of the worst of man's emotions.

And it was rising in her like an all-consuming wave.

It was like a wall of colours had blurred in front of her eyes; nothing but a screen of swirling chaos. She could hear her breathing, and it came in ragged, labored bursts of air. The first signs of an oncoming panic attack rang like church bells in some far back recess of her mind, but at this moment she was filled with nothing but the sheer horror of knowing just how much she'd underestimated her father.

He'd played his part so well; emphasizing that everything he'd done was for their family, that the people he'd killed had deserved it more than anyone, that she'd been completely blindsided. She'd ignored her instincts- the very opposite of what she'd learnt from Ward and May. And God, if she wasn't paying the price for it now.

But that wasn't exactly accurate, because it wasn't her that would pay the severest, it'd be the two civilians; the woman about to get a bullet in her head and the innocent man that would pull the trigger. As a SHIELD agent- or an ex-agent, whichever one- she'd sworn to protect people like this from people like _him_, but it was more than that. How could she sit back and let the massacre unfold in front of her when she had a choice, no matter how crazy it seemed, that would save everything?

The simple answer: she couldn't.

Skye's restraints didn't matter anymore, not when her father was giving her such a seemingly easy way out.

She looked up at her father. "You must feel so smart right now," she said bitterly. "Did you always plan it to be this way?"

He shook his head. "No, Skye, this was never part of the plan. Like I told you before, I would've given you all the time in the world. But that is the thing we're running out of. This was a final resort. Please, believe that."

Skye felt sick. This was like finding out Ward was Hydra all over again; the sense of ultimate betrayal.

_Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…_

God, she was an idiot. She was so, so, so stupid. Absolutely naïve to believe anything that came out of her father's mouth held any semblance of the truth. She should've learnt not to trust anyone; not Ward, not Coulson, not her father.

No one.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," she said, staring at the gun which was still pointing steadily at the woman's head.

"Believe this," he knelt down in front of her, so their eyes were on the same level and their faces only a few inches apart. "Hydra, SHIELD; the ones who killed your mother? They're coming again. They will never. Stop. Coming. Awakening your powers? That's the only way for you to have a fighting chance; for you to survive. _That_ is what you should believe."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do, otherwise you'd know I don't respond well to commands," she snarled in his face.

He gave a bitter smile, one that appeared so forced it looked as if one movement would smash it to pieces like the glass of a mirror. "Oh, I know that, Skye. I also know you aren't a murderer. You haven't even taken a life with your own hands yet. Could you handle this? Knowing that the lives of two innocent, young people, with infinite possibilities in front of them, could've been spared if you just made the right choice?"

She couldn't tear her eyes away from the gun. Why did the some of the biggest decisions in life always come hand in hand with violence? Why should some of the most significant events be defined by something so small? She closed her eyes, letting panic drag her further into the deep, endless ocean of blue.

"It's easy, Skye. It's already inside you; part of your nature. It's just been hidden and subjugated by your upbringing in the oppressive society. But it's there. You just need to _look_ for it."

She almost scoffed at the black and white way he was presenting it, as if there was barely a decision at all. But to him there probably wasn't, to him it was only a matter of accepting something which had been a part of her in the first place. He didn't see it as the life-changing decision as she did. How could he not realise that?

Her father continued regardless. "After that, it's simple. You would be able to defend yourself and you and me?" he spread his arms out like he was presenting her with the world. "We'd be able to fix it- fix _everything_. We'd be just like you've always wanted; together, you and me."

"Like a dog lying at the feet of its master?" Skye snarled.

"No, you're not listening to me!" he screamed, then put his arms out in a motion meant to convey he was in control, before saying in a much lower voice, "we'd be a family."

And there it was, that one thing she'd always sought out like a moth to a flame, clinging to some form of normality in her otherwise craze-filled life. But that was _before_. Before seemed like such an impossible thing to return to now.

Skye leaned forward then, and narrowed her eyes "I already have one," is all she said.

An indescribable expression crossed her father's face- loss… fear?

And anger, most importantly anger.

She saw movement at the corner of her eye and, like a coward, slammed her eyes shut. But that didn't stop the deafening bang she'd been dreading from reverberating in her ears.

Then her eyes opened.

_Really_ opened.

She blinked rapidly, the hazy image of her bedroom spinning around her. Her head fell sideways on the pillow to find her father sitting at her bedside, chin propped on his fingertips like he was internalizing some conflict.

The room full of papers, her restraints, the two people- _a gun; a horrible, deadly gun_\- they were all gone, like the wisps of dreams that escaped through your fingertips as you woke.

But it hadn't been a dream, had it? And this was reality… right?

She blinked again, and said quietly, "you're gonna have to do better than that."

His face was half-shrouded in shadow when he answered. "Oh Skye, that was only the beginning. I don't want to kill anyone," he leaned in close, "but I will protect you at any cost necessary. If this," he waved a hand, and Skye assumed he was gesturing to their general surroundings, something which had not existed mere moments ago, "is that cost, then I will accept it. To make sure you live. You just have to say _yes_."

* * *

Natasha and May returned to the Playground a mere twenty-one hours after their departure. Coulson approached them as soon as the Bus's door descended, eyes scanning over their figures quickly to check for injuries. Finding none, he asked the question that'd been playing over his mind on a constant repeat. "You got it?"

May nodded. "It's set up in Fitzsimmons lab," she answered, motioning her head back towards the plane. Her face is blank- forcibly so, Coulson guessed. She probably knew better than anyone the extent of that machine.

He took a deep breath and moved forward- he would need to get this over with quickly or he'd really start to lose his mind. A hand on his arm had him turning back to face May.

"There's something else," she added in a voice that had him wondering what else could've possibly gone wrong. "We encountered a Hydra agent who claimed to know something about Skye's father."

Coulson blinked. Now _that_ was something he hadn't been expecting. "I'm guessing you didn't leave him behind?"

"He's in the interrogation room, shouldn't be out for too much longer."

"We can deal with that at the same time then," he turned to Natasha, "feeling up for an interrogation?" he asked her.

She smiled- a cold, threatening smile, the one of the Black Widow- and said, "it would be my genuine pleasure, just give me a moment to get the smell of Hydra off me." When Coulson nodded, she turned and made her way into the Playground in search of a shower and some clean clothes.

May looked up at him. "This better work," she said quietly.

"It will."

"You don't have to do that."

He glanced at her. "Do what?"

May's eyes were dark, an unreadable brown, and Coulson wondered why every wall she had was suddenly thrown against him. "Pretend like everything's fine."

He looked away again, back into the Bus where he knew the machine was. There was no point lying or denying anything; she'd always been able to read him so much better. May knew him better than practically anyone, which was probably part of the reason he was still alive after all this time.

"Yes I do."

* * *

Natasha did a double take when she walked past one of the abandoned rooms, because surely the silhouette of a man doing pushups in the middle of the floor wasn't a normal occurrence in this place, right?

She cleared her throat, and smirked as the figure jumped abruptly to his feet before spinning around to face her. He raised a closed fist, then seemed to think twice and lowered it slowly down to his side.

Good. It meant Grant Ward wasn't a total idiot then.

Natasha's eyes surveyed what she guessed was Skye's room. "This could be slightly awkward," she said conversationally. When he didn't answer, she continued, moving further into the room "Right… so what's your story?" His head jumped to track her movements. "Coulson seems on the edge of a psychotic break, May's as secretive as always, Fitzsimmons obviously speak a language we can't even hope to understand and don't even bring up Koenig's family issues. But you? The one thing I don't understand is why you're still here."

"Good." His voice was rough, brash; he was on the defensive.

She gestured to their surroundings. "This gives it a way a little."

He shifted slightly, crossing his arms on his chest. "I just want to get her back; there's not much to my story."

"Mmm, that's not true. Everyone has a story it's just a matter of whether it'll give children nightmares if you read it to them at bedtime. Your feelings for Skye won't make this job any easier."

He gave a bitter laugh. "You don't think I know that? It's one of the first things they tell you: don't get compromised."

There was no need to ask who 'they' were. It was the unanimous eye watching over your back in the middle of a mission; it was the person who called the shots; the one who seemingly had all the answers to everything a person could ever know.

"I used to believe it too," she said into the darkness.

His voice was sharp. "And now you don't?"

"Oh no, it's definitely true. I just know now that sometimes we get no choice in the matter. Trust me, feelings are one of the few things you can't run away from." She gave a small smile, but her eyes were tuned to some faraway place. Or perhaps just a faraway person. Ward dismissed that thought instantly; agents like Romanoff would never fully let themselves become compromised.

That was the mere mortal's weakness.

"Love," she continued, "is like a bungee cord; the harder you try to get away from it, the stronger the force is dragging you back.

"May told me how your story started, and until now it's been someone else's masterpiece. Except for her."

For a second, it was the hardest thing in the world for Ward to just take a breath. "Except for her," he echoed.

"I've never met a Hydra agent with such a thing for a girl."

"Well that doesn't amount to much," he answered dryly, "most of them aren't even _breathing_."

Natasha grinned. "You _would_ be the first."

* * *

**So, if you're even more confused, I'm sorry. Basically, Skye's father made her hallucinate the whole conversation and those two people. But that doesn't mean that what he said isn't true. Something else is coming... :p**

**Thank you so much for reading! I'll hope to update with another chapter soon, I promise! **

**-F**


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